


Campfires

by Niamh



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niamh/pseuds/Niamh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, when you do something for someone else, really good things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Something fluffy and relatively angst free to counter balance the angst and drama of the Originsverse.

_**One**_  
  
  
“Mommy?”  Her son came careening through the house calling for her at the top of his lungs.  “Mom!  Mom!”  
  
Buffy looked up from the window seat where she’d been resting after a rough day at work, catching the dark brown eyes of her son Xander.  “Hey, big guy.  What’s up?”  
  
“Guess what?  Camping trip is this weekend!”  His enthusiasm was infectious and despite her fatigue, Buffy could feel herself picking up on his emotions.  
  
“I know, sweetie.  Are you all packed and ready to go?”  Buffy ran an affectionate hand over Xander’s dark hair.  He looked nothing like her or her ex-husband. Instead, Xander looked like her ex’s mother, Jenny.  
  
But that was fine with her, because she almost wanted no reminders of her brooding, hulking ex-husband to infect her new life.  
  
“Yup.  All packed.  I even remembered underwear.”  Buffy smiled, trying to hide the laughter that was bubbling just below the surface.  
  
“Well that’s a good thing, sweetie.  Did you remember socks too?”  
  
His face fell a little bit, then the smile reappeared.  “I’ll go now, Mom.”  And he headed back toward the stairs.  “Oh, Mom?  Is Wesley going?”  
  
“I’m pretty sure he is, sweetie.”  
  
“Cool.  I like him.”  Xander raced for the stairs, his voice trailing behind him.  
  
Buffy watched him go, a smile on her face.  He was much better this year.  Last year he hadn’t wanted to go at all, complaining and just being all-around grumpy, probably also picking up on her own reluctance to go.  At least until the night they got there, then he’d been all excited and hyper.  
  
But really, it had all worked out in the end.  Really well.  Better than either of them had expected.  Leaning her head against the wall, Buffy closed her eyes and thought back over the last year.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
She was tired.  It had been a really long week and she didn’t need to be camping.  Not with a bunch of parents she didn’t really know very well, nor with a bunch of over-active eight and nine year old boys.  Xander was practically bouncing in the seat beside her, excited and over-sugared and Buffy was exhausted.  Night was falling and it would be full dark before they even got to the campground, where she still had to find where Xander’s troop was and set up the tent.  
  
This wasn’t what she wanted to be doing with her weekend.  Stealing a glance at the eight year old boy, she shrugged off her aggravation and determined that she was going to have a good time and not bring down her son’s mood.  
  
That theory was tested an hour later as she was trudging through the dark with Xander trailing uselessly behind her while she dragged the tent and some of their supplies.  Her arms were aching and her back hurt and . . . huffing out a breath, Buffy blew her hair off her face and paused for a moment.  Xander plowed into her from behind, knocking the sleeping bags out of her hands and Buffy lost her temper.  
  
“Xander, dammit!  Watch where you’re going.  You walked right into me.”  Trying to juggle everything proved fruitless and everything dropped out of her hands.  
  
“Hey, Xander!  Uncle Will!  Xander’s here!”  Buffy looked up to see another little boy running toward them, followed by a tall, dark shape behind him.  
  
“Wesley, you need to slow down.  Get back here.”  A deeply accented voice reached Buffy’s ears and her body reacted instantly.  
  
The form came closer and Buffy kept her eyes away from the moving flashlight and tried picking up everything she’d dropped.  “Here, pet, lemme get that for you.”  
  
Buffy mumbled something, watching while this strange man somehow got two little boys to help him carry everything to their campsite, taking the majority of their stuff.  “My name’s Will.  Wesley’s m’nephew.”  
  
“I’m Buffy.  Xander’s my son.”  He was quiet, then turned to the boys who were starting to trail too far behind.  “Oi, lads, get moving’.  Need to get your kit set up an’ all.”  
  
The two little boys tried moving faster, almost tripping over themselves to catch up with the two adults.  “Right then, mates, step on it.”  Will turned around to look at the boys as they trudged up behind them.  
  
Guiding them through the dark, Will unerringly led them to the pack campsite.  The boys were chattering behind them, talking animatedly about what was going to happen over the course of the next two days.  Buffy was searching her mind, trying to find a way to start a conversation with this man with the delicious voice who was walking beside her.  “So, you said Wesley is your nephew.”  
  
“Yeah, m’sister’s boy.  His dad’s a right bugger an’ she’s sickly, can’t leave her girls alone.”  Angling toward a nicely burning campfire and a couple of large canopies, Will pointed her in that direction.  “We’re over here.  There’s a good spot right next t’my tent.”  
  
As they neared the light, Buffy finally got a good look at the man with the voice and nearly choked.  He was. . . _gorgeous.  Simply gorgeous._ High cheekbones and dark brows offset by a shock of white bond hair and a _. . . he is just gorgeous._  
  
Buffy stood staring up at him, the light from the gas lanterns illuminating her face.  Dark blond hair framed delicate features, wide kissable mouth and . . . _bloody hell, she’s adorable._  
  
They stared at each other for a few minutes, both of them lost in the moment.  It was only when Xander pulled on her arm that their staring contest was interrupted.  “Mom?  Can I have some chocolate?  And marshmallows?  Please, can I?”  
  
“Xander, I need your help setting up the tent.  Then I have to get the rest of our stuff from the car and. . .”  
  
“I’ll help you do all that, luv, no worries.  Let ‘im go with Wes.”  Will motioned to her things.  “We can set you up right quick.”  
  
Suiting actions to words, together she and Will got the tent up, their air mattress inflated and the sleeping bags together in no time at all.  Piling the two boys into Will’s tent, she and Will trudged the nearly two miles back to her car.  
  
He kept the flashlight trained on the ground in front of their feet, though it didn’t stop her from stumbling.  Catching her, Will grabbed her hand and stopped Buffy from ending up on her butt.  Her gasped breath gave him an inkling that perhaps she might like him a little bit, and Will said, “So, pet, how come your husband isn’t here?”  
  
“Angel?”  Buffy made a noise between a snort and a snicker, then said, “My ex-husband?  He’s so not into this.  He barely sees Xander.”  
  
Will grinned to himself, then said, “There’s no . . . one else to bring your boy?”  
  
“Nope.  Just me.”  Buffy thought for a moment, watching him as well as she could in the dark, hoping he was single and. . . “So, Will, what about you?”  
  
“Me?  No woman. . . not recently.  Came here when Dru got sick.  Put m’band on hold.”  
  
“You have a band?”  Abruptly, she realized her hand was still clasped in his large one and she didn’t really mind.  His hand was warm and strong against hers and she unconsciously  tightened her fingers around his.    
  
“Yeah.  Back in New York.”  He downplayed it, giving her brief answers.  
  
“Anything I would know?”  She was curious now.  
  
“Doubt it, pet.  We play hard alternative rock.  Not exactly your style, ‘m sure.”  Will gazed down at her, realizing she wasn’t anything like the usual girls he went after, _but bleeding Jesus, she's gorgeous.  All gold and . . . yeah.  
_  
“And you use Will as your stage name?”  She was angling toward him, just so she could see his face.  
  
“Ah.  No.”  He hesitated, reluctant to actually divulge his stage persona to her.  She might not have heard the music, but his on-stage antics and sometimes off-stage behavior had gotten his other persona a lot of negative press.  Glancing once more down at her, he almost didn’t want to tell her . . . but the openness and trust in her gaze gave him hope.  “Go by the name ‘Spike’.”  
  
“You do?”  She paused for a long moment, her eyes trained on his features, noting the tensing of his jaw and the brief flash of fire in his eyes.  Buffy smiled a bit, recognizing the name.  _Oh, she had him now, all right.  Now I know where I’ve seen him before!  
_  
His entire body tensed, growing more agitated the longer she remained silent.  “So, the Big Bad is just that?  All image and a persona.  Just like I figured.”  
  
Will just stood there staring at her.  “How’d you figure that?”  
  
Her brilliant smile lit up his night.  “Oh, please.  Anyone who uses Nietzsche and Oscar Wilde in the same song can’t be a mindless thug, and no one who quotes Yeats’ letters to Maude Gonne is a philistine.”  She giggled a little at his stunned expression.  
  
“How?  Wha?”  Spike swallowed, gathering his thoughts, then asked, “How did you know all that?”  
  
“I’m a counselor; a trained psychologist, and I work with troubled teens mostly.  One of my kids was listening to your band.  He recited the lyrics for me and well, I’ve been intrigued since then.”  
  
He had the grace to look abashed.  “Really?”    
  
Looking down at her face Spike saw genuine admiration in her eyes.  She is . . . _bloody brilliant.  Smart, witty, adorable, and sexy as hell_.  He really wanted to kiss her.  
  
“Really.”  Buffy looked straight up into his eyes, wondering at their real color.  All she could tell was they were dark.  She’d only just discovered his band a couple of weeks ago, and hadn’t really done more than read lyrics and download a few songs.  The internet was great, though she rarely had time to go on-line anymore, especially since the divorce was final.  But she made a point of trying to understand her kids, and when Joey had actually been enthusiastic about the music he’d been listening too, Buffy paid attention.    
  
“Do you like the music or the lyrics?”  He looked away from her, almost afraid of her answer.  He was very sensitive about his lyrics, because they were raw and open and if anyone cared to listen they reflected a lot of his pain and heartache.  The music was something hard and not always easy on the ears, however if someone could get past that and just listen, he knew that person was someone he could relate to, could get along with, and form a real relationship with.  Not the travesties he’d had in the past.  
  
Buffy watched him, trying to gauge his reaction and see what it was he was fishing for, what he wanted from her.  When it appeared he wasn’t going to give her anything to work with, Buffy just blurted out the truth.  “Music isn’t bad . . . but what really got me were your lyrics.  They. . . speak.”  
  
Spike caught her expression out of the corner of his eye and relaxed a bit.  She wasn’t playing him, or being anything but sincere.  He appreciated that.  He got so little of it in the mess that was his life.  Record company executives, groupies, sycophants, over-eager fans, his publicist, everyone told him what they thought he wanted to hear, not what they really felt.  And he was heartily sick of it.  He wanted real.  
  
He’d been on the merry-go-round of the scene for almost eighteen years, and he needed a break.  Needed some down time.  So when Dru had gotten sick, he’d dropped everything and gone to her.  And he didn’t regret a minute of it.  Taking care of her and the rugrats was just what he needed.  A dose of reality.  
  
They were more than halfway to her car when he realized they were still holding hands.  Not wanting to destroy the calm or the level of comfort he felt with her, Spike didn’t focus on their hands, instead he searched his brain for some topic they could talk about.  “You work with troubled teens?  Mustn’t be easy.”  
  
“No, it’s really not, though it has some rewards.  At least the kids seem to listen and the bonus is my case load really lightens in the summer.  I get lots of free time.”  She answered him quickly, anxious to keep their conversation going.  Her hand was still curled up in his and it felt so good.  They fell into such a natural rhythm with both their steps and their words that Buffy felt like she’d known him forever.  _But really?_   It was his voice that drew her in, the warm deep raspy tones just running through her body almost like an internal caress.  Buffy hadn’t been this aware of a man since long before she got married.  In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever been this aware of Angel.  
  
This guy –  Spike, William . . . whatever he was called –  made her blood zing.  
  
Sneaking a glance up at him, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him.  He probably had a houseful of groupies waiting for him. . . “Where is home?”  
  
“Originally?  London.  Lately, though, been livin’ in my sister’s house wi’ her and the kids.”  She felt his shrug.  “Got a flat in New York, but haven’t been there in nearly a year.”  
  
“What’s wrong with your sister, if you don’t mind me asking?”  
  
“Severe depression for one thing.  F’r another?  Docs don’t rightly know.  But she’s gettin’ weaker by the day.”  
  
“Oh.  I’m so sorry.”  The concern and caring in his voice was palpable and she felt tears of sympathy flood her eyes.  “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”  
  
It was the first time someone offered their assistance and really meant it.  “Oh, pet, that means a lot.  Thanks.”  
  
And following an urge that sprang into his head, Spike turned to face her and brushed a kiss on her forehead.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Half an hour later, while they were unloading the car, Buffy’s forehead still tingled.  And despite their easy banter, she could practically feel the tension.  Her hands itched to touch him and she could feel her inner muscles clenching every time he spoke.  She peeked a bit when he wasn’t looking, trying to get a glimpse of all of him once they were under the parking lot lights, but she couldn’t get a clear look.  
  
Spike was fighting himself, arguing internally over whether he should make another move.  She was just . . . she looked like she fit right against him, all their parts matching perfectly.  He knew her skin was soft and fragrant and his lips wanted to suck on hers, wanted to bite on her kissable mouth.  
  
He was distracted by his own thoughts when her small hand touched him on the shoulder as she leaned in next to him to get something from the trunk.  Jerking his head back, Spike banged it on the underside of the trunk hatch.  “Oh, fuck that. . . ow!”  
  
“Oh, God,  I’m sorry!  Really sorry.  You okay, Will?”  Buffy was wringing her hands, then guiding him to the open door, pushing him down onto the passenger’s seat.  “Lemme see.”  
  
Angling his head so she could see if it was bleeding, Buffy got her first good look at his eyes and she very nearly forgot everything she ever knew.  
  
The unforgiving parking lights shone directly down into his unforgettable blue eyes.  
  
 _They were blue.  Just blue.  Sky blue and robin’s egg and indigo and midnight.  Lapis and cerulean, sapphire and topaz, ice and fire_ and she realized blue would never ever be the same.  
  
Her hand cupped his face gently, brushing away some of the grime from the trunk, and she couldn’t help herself, Buffy leaned in and kissed him.  
  
The first touch of their lips was tentative, gentle and almost soothing.  But that was before his tongue snaked out, lining her lips, coaxing her to open up for him.  His arms slid around her waist, pulling her between his legs.  Her free hand gripped his shoulder while the other slid around to grasp his curls.  
  
Breaking for air, Will gulped heavily, his chest heaving as he rested his head in between her breasts.  He could feel the tremors and shuddering breaths she was trying to control and he tightened his hold on her.  
  
“Oh. . .”  Buffy tried to hide her face when he looked up at her, but he wasn’t going to put up with that.  
  
“No, sweets, don’t hide from me.  Tha’ was bloody wonderful.”  His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, and she didn’t remember him standing up, though he must have because now he was looking down into her eyes.  “So sweet.  Been wantin’ to do that . . .”  
  
She still couldn’t really find her voice, so she stared up at him, her eyes wide and stunned.  “Wow.”  
  
“Yeah.  Wow.“   He grinned, then squeezed her butt, “Unless you wanna stay here all night an’ snog, we best see to the boys.”  
  
That spurred her to movement.  “Oh my _God_.  The boys.  I completely forgot where. . . anyway, yeah, let’s get back.”  Quickly collecting her stuff and locking the car, they headed back to the campground.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Stowing their back packs in the tent while Will delivered the cooler and foodstuffs she was required to bring, Buffy found herself watching him warily interact with a couple of the other parents and the scoutmaster.  It was very clear that Will – or Spike – wasn’t comfortable around these people, well aware that he was a fish-out-of-water in this world.  Well, so was she, sort of.  
  
She was a single parent in a sea of happily-marrieds and very out of step with her peers.  Truth was, most of them were older, and she was a psychologist, which also set her apart.  Yet she and Will, the odd ones out had been totally comfortable with each other.  Almost too comfortable.  Buffy’s blush covered most of her face and it worsened when Will glanced in her direction then headed toward her.  
  
“Bloke says it’s gonna get chilly tonight.  Didya bring enough blankets?”  Will stopped right in front of her, blocking her from anyone else’s view.  
  
Buffy stared up at him.  “I don’t know.  I brought our sleeping bags, but that was it.”  
  
“Might want to zip them up together so you and the nipper can share body heat, then.”    
  
“Right.”  Ducking back into the tent, Buffy tried shifting things around and found herself having some difficulty because her reach wasn’t so long.  She huffed and blew out a breath, poked her head out of the tent flap and meekly asked, “Will, can you give me a hand?”  
  
“Sure thing.”  Crouching down, Will pushed aside the flap and got into the tent with her.  Her face was all flush and she had bright rosy spots of red on her cheeks.  He stared at her for a few minutes, his eyes focused on her.  He wasn’t sure . . . “You are a vision, pet.”  
  
The rosy spots grew, covering her entire face.  “I’m sure you see beautiful women all the time.”  
  
He shrugged, saying, “Yeah, but isn’t a one of them that’s all real.  Most of ‘em have enhanced what little God and genetics gave ‘em.  Makes me appreciate the real thing when I see it.”  
  
There wasn’t anything she could say to actually refute that, so Buffy just remained silent, her thoughts focused on him.  _Sounds like he’s a bit tired of the craziness that has to surround his life.  Wonder what that’s really like. . .   Can’t be easy living in a fishbowl.  Everyone watching you all the time._  
  
Working together, they got the tent situated, the sleeping bags zipped up together, and the two duffle bags stowed in the corner.  
  
“Thank you, Spike, for all your help tonight.”  Buffy smiled at him, and though the tent was shrouded in flickering shadows, he could see her clearly.  
  
“My pleasure.  Couldn’t leave you out there without any rescue.”  He moved to the tent flap, gazing down at her.  “Care to sit by the fire a bit?”  
  
Forcing away a yawn, Buffy smiled again and followed him from the tent.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Most of the other parents had drifted off to bed, leaving Buffy and Spike as the last two up, except for the scoutmaster and his wife.  They were blowing out the lanterns, making sure the coolers were all closed and foodstuffs packed away, when Spike observed, “Looks like it’s time for lights out.”  
  
Despite her fatigue, Buffy didn’t want to go to bed.  She wanted to spend all night talking and just being in his company.  She hadn’t felt this alive in years and she didn’t want to let it go.  
  
He caught a glimpse at her face and knew she was feeling the way he was.  _How can I keep her out here?  Keep her talking?_   “Gonna head to the loo.  Do you want to. . .”   Before he was finished talking, she was up and waiting for him.  
  
“Great idea.  Which way?”  Buffy knew she was far too perky, but she wanted more time.  
  
“Lemme grab a torch and we’ll go.”  
  
After a quick word with Scoutmaster Finn, Spike joined Buffy and they headed toward the bathrooms.  The walk through the woods was quiet, both of them preternaturally aware of each other.  Spike was on her left, their hands accidentally brushing together every couple of steps.  Each contact sent tingles racing through her and she could practically hear the blood zinging through her veins.  _Oh, my God. . . I feel like a little girl on her first date. . my palms are sweaty!_  
  
Spike was searching for something to say, anything at all, and found himself strangely tongue-tied.  This girl – no, this woman – had him tied up in knots and he’d only known her for a few hours.  _What the bloody hell was that all about?_  
  
Too soon for either of their liking, they reached the bathroom cabin.  Splitting up, each headed for the gender specific door.  Buffy made it inside only to discover the women’s room was out of toilet paper.  “Ugh.”  
  
Rushing to the men’s room, she debated with herself for a minute, then called out softly, “Spike?  The ladies room is out of paper.   Can you bring some out?  Please?”  
  
“Be right out.”  His voice came through clearly and she didn’t have long to wait.  “Here.”    
  
He started to hand her a roll, then held it just out of reach.  “Gotta pay the price, kitten.”  
  
“Spike?”  She whined, dancing from one foot to the other, “Geez!  Teenager much?  Just gimme.”  
  
“Oh, c’mon, princess.   Give us a kiss and you’ll get it.”  He teasingly held the paper up over his head, smirking down at her.  
  
“C’mon, lemme go first.  I promise.”  
  
Taking pity on her growing distress, Spike dropped the toilet paper into her hands, then laughed as she streaked into the bathroom.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
He hadn’t been able to resist teasing her like that.  She responded so wonderfully, her face so pretty in the moonlight, Spike was enchanted with her.  _She’s a bloody pixie. . .  How adorable._  
  
Leaning against the cabin wall, Spike stared up at the moonlight and stars, thinking about the changes his life was going through.  He’d been tired of it for a while before Drusilla called him home – touring and the publicity starting to grow boring and the emptiness gnawing at him.  Eighteen years was a long time without a break and the last ten years had been a roller coaster ride that he’d dreamed of but never expected the reality.  At times it was daunting and others exhilarating, however he was tired.  
  
Drusilla’s illness wasn’t a good thing.  The depression was eating away at her and causing all sorts of other problems.  His sister was slowly going insane and he feared he might eventually have to fight her idiot ex-husband for custody of their children.   
  
Buffy appeared next to him, a shy smile on her face.  “Hey.”  
  
“Hey there, kitten.  Sorry about before, just havin’ fun.”  He had the grace to look sheepish.  
  
She looked away, a look he couldn’t interpret on her features.  “It’s okay.  Not a big deal.”  
  
Buffy stole a glance up at the man who was probably the best looking man she’d ever laid eyes on and had to stop herself from drooling.  _Oh well. . . I do owe him, not like it’s a hardship or anything._  
  
With her hand on his arm, Buffy took him by surprise when she leaned up and brushed her lips against his.  _Still tastes like sunshine . . ._ and that was his last coherent thought as he deepened the kiss.  
  
Buffy knew he could kiss from their first kiss earlier by her car, though there was no way she’d been prepared for this . . .  This was . . .  His whole mouth participated, lips, teeth, tongue. . . _oh, God, his tongue_. . . and when he nibbled on her lower lip she was lost.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
His hands snaking up under her sweatshirt didn’t set off any alarms, nor did his thumbs brushing across her nipples and if it hadn’t been for the noisy approach of someone else, Buffy was pretty sure they would have been wrapped around each other, regardless of their location.  
  
“We . . . should go back.”  Reluctantly she pulled away from him, her breasts aching for more of his touch and lungs clamoring for air.  
  
Spike wasn’t in any better shape, his erection was rock hard and straining against his buttons.   “Yeah.”  
  
He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the curls.  “Yeah.   Ah. . . this way.”  
  
He pointed her toward the path and tried to walk.  “Gimme a minute, kitten.”  
  
Buffy turned to look at him, a question in her eyes and when she caught sight of the look on his face, her blush got deeper.  “Oh. . . I’m soo sorry.”  
  
“No worries, sweets.”  
  
Spike didn’t try to hide his body’s reaction to her.  A big part of him wanted her to know exactly what effect she had on him.  Adjusting himself in front of her, Spike grinned when the blush deepened, then chuckled deeply.  
  
The tension surrounding them broke and Spike took her hand then headed for the camping area.  They walked together, talking about nothing in particular, both of them feeling comfortable.  Which lasted until they got to their area and all the lights were out and everyone was inside their tents.  Before they split for their own tents, Spike grabbed her by the arm and swung her into his embrace, kissing her soundly.  
  
“Go on in, sweets.  See you in the morning.”  
  
Fully expecting to find Xander in their tent, Buffy panicked when he wasn’t there.  _Oh, God. . . Oh, God. . ._ scrambling from the tent, Buffy plowed right into Spike, who was standing outside.  
  
“Spike, Xander’s gone, he’s not in the tent. . . he’s gone.”  
  
All he did was point his finger at his own tent.  “There’s four or five little boys in there.”  
  
The look on his face was priceless.  “Can’t tell what – or who’s in there.”  
  
Buffy stuck her head in and saw Xander’s dark head on a pillow next to Wesley, two other boys, plus another suspicious looking lump.  “Looks like they all just crashed.”  
  
“Yeah.  And I’ve no idea who they belong to or how to get them back to their parents.  Which means ‘ve got nowhere to sleep.  There’s no way I can fit in there now.”  
  
Before she could really think about the consequences of her words, Buffy blurted out, “You can sleep with me.”  
  
                        



	2. Two

_**Two**_  
  
  
  
He stared at her for long minutes, an unreadable expression on his face.  Buffy nervously wrung her hands together, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip.  
  
“I mean you can sleep – can share my tent.  We don’t have to . . I can unzip the sleeping bags.”  _Oh, no.    Gah!  I’m brook, hear me babble._  
  
A slow grin appeared on his lips and Buffy found herself just staring up at him.  His low chuckle sounded in the air and he stepped closer, his words little more than a whisper across her skin.  “I’d be honored to use your tent, sweetheart.  Promise you won’t take advantage of me and ‘ll even share the sleepin’ bags with you.”  
  
It took her a moment to realize what he’d said and another before she got his gentle teasing, but once she did, Buffy thumped his arm.  “Very funny.  Maybe I’m the one that should be worried.”  
  
His look turned serious then, and Will leaned down, his mouth at her ear.  “Maybe you should be.”  
  
Before she could squawk at him, Will disappeared into his tent, digging around for his duffel bag.  Extricating it from underneath one of the sleeping boys, Will shook his head.  Camping with a bunch of uptight suburbanites was not something he ever pictured himself doing.  The only other time he’d willingly done this, was easily a dozen years and two stints in rehabilitation ago.  Roughing it like this was not his idea of a good time.  
  
Emerging from his tent, he saw Buffy staring up at the stars, moonlight glinting off her hair, bathing her features in fairy light.  He could almost picture her with delicate iridescent wings, pointy little ears hidden by her dark gold tresses.  _Okay, maybe roughing it isn’t so bad._  
  
Lines of poetry formed in his head the longer he stared at her and his fingers itched for his guitar.  Reluctant to disturb her, Will stayed silent, just drinking in the vision in front of him.  Long before he was ready, Buffy shifted, becoming aware of him staring at her.  Even in the darkness he could see the blush blooming on her features and he smiled as she shyly ducked her head.  
  
She started to speak, then stopped as her voice squeaked a bit.  Clearing her throat, Buffy tried again.  “Um.  Can you give me a minute while I change?”  
  
“Sure.  No rush.”  He smiled again, watching her duck easily into the tent.  Spike could hear the rustle of clothing being removed, the slide of zippers opening and closing, and his imagination took flight.  Even as his hands searched his pockets for pen and paper, his brain was aware of two things, Buffy undressing and the lines of song lyrics appearing magically in his head.  
  
  


*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*

  
  
  
Buffy nervously slid inside the tent, trying and failing to move silently.  She didn’t feel entirely comfortable knowing Will was less a couple of feet away and able to hear everything  she did.  
  
Every noise she made sounded unnaturally loud, making her even more self-conscious.  She nearly groaned when the zipper on her backpack caught, silent curses tripping violently through her head.  
  
It finally gave and Buffy quickly grabbed her comfy sleep wear.  Grimacing at it with distaste, Buffy realized cotton flannel just couldn’t compete with silk or satin.  A small sigh escaped her and Buffy shook her head.  It was either the flannel or nothing and it was really too cold for nothing.  Besides, it wasn’t like she’d known something like this would or could happen.  _And hello?  Who says anything is going to happen anyway.  Jumping to conclusions, much?_  
  
Emitting a deep sigh, Buffy shook her head and quickly changed her clothes.  Shivering slightly as she got redressed, she softly called out his name.  “I’m done.  You can come in now.”  
  
A distracted, “Be right there, pet,” was her only response for a few moments and then she heard low humming and an occasional word.  Puzzled, Buffy leaned out of the tent to see Will standing almost where she’d left him, his duffel bag on the ground, a pad and pencil in his hands.  As she watched, he thumped the rubber end against the pad and a slow grin appeared on his face.  He glanced up and his smile got wider.  
  
He asked her, “All done?”  
  
“Yeah.  You ready to come to bed?”  
  
“Am now.”  He dropped the pad and pencil in the side pocket of his bag and forcibly zipped  it up.  “Shove over, kitten.”  
  
For some strangely inexplicable reason, Buffy’s nerves increased.  Okay, so she knew why – the why was fairly obvious.  The why was just shy of two feet away from her, currently with his back to her, removing his boots.  
  
Will had already decided he wasn’t going to bother changing into the sweatpants he’d packed.  Leaving his jeans on was a better option.  The temptation was far too great.  Sweatpants meant easy access and he really didn’t want to take advantage of Buffy.  Which surprised him no end.  
  
He was used to having women throw themselves at him, always guaranteed a sure thing.  But he didn’t want a sure thing.  For the first time in a very long while, Spike found himself genuinely enjoying someone else’s company.  The guys in the band didn’t count, because they were family, just like Dru.  It was the others – the groupies, the hangers-on and all the rest of the strangers populating his world, that lately seemed to be driving him crazy.  Always wanting something and never returning the favor.  
  
Spike liked this girl.  Liked her quick wit and intelligence.  She was real.  And he wasn’t going to blow it by shagging her right away.  
  
So the jeans stayed on.  
  
Buffy moved to the far side of the sleeping bag, studying the lines of Spike’s back, curious about  what he’d been doing outside.  It looked like he’d been writing and she wondered  if it might have been a new song.  She didn’t dare think it was about her, but she hoped all the same.  _Geez, ego much?  Like he’s gonna write about you.  Ordinary Buffy. . . nope.  Doubt that will happen anytime soon._  
  
She shifted around, trying to get comfortable with only one of her pillows.  Her attention was off Spike for a few minutes and when she finally looked up, he was watching her, an amused smile lighting up his features.  The flashlight was the only illumination and his look made her blush.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothin’, pet.  Jus’ wonderin’ what you’re doin’, is all.”  
  
She huffed, pushing wisps of hair off her face.  “Just trying to get comfy.”  
  
“Ah huh.”  
  
This time she made another adorably scrunched face and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to kiss her. While he hesitated, a huge yawn cracked her features, making his decision easier.  “C’mon, kitten, let’s get settled.”  
  
He got into the sleeping bag, stretched out beside her and flipped off the flashlight.  
  
Being in the dark only increased their awareness of each other and Buffy started talking to cover up her nervousness.  Seizing on the distraction, Spike eagerly joined her, letting the conversation flow between them.  Eventually, though, fatigue caught up with them and they both drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
  
  


*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*

  
  
  
Consciousness seeped into him, along with the warmth surrounding him, blanketing him. His nose was cold, but everything else was deliciously warm.  
  
He slowly became aware of a tiny hand nestled inside the front of his jeans and that his own hand was cupped around a delicious bare handful of a gently rounded butt cheek.  It was still dark out, although it must have been close to daybreak because the morning birds were beginning to chirp.  His hand tightened around the flesh and in response the small hand in his pants slid closer to his erection.  
  
The girl in his arms stirred, her long hair falling over his chest and the scent of her filling his nostrils.  She nuzzled the spot where her head rested and he groaned when her lips touched his neck.  
  
Her sleepy voice sounded in his ear and it took him a few seconds to realize what she was saying.  
  
“I’m really not sorry.  I wish you would wake up.  Which sorta makes me a bad person.”  He waited, not daring to move, afraid even to breathe.  “I just wanna snuggle up with you.  I hope you won’t be mad at me when you do wake up.”  
  
Her hand slid past his straining erection, grabbing onto his hip.  She was very nearly lying on top of him, a position he could find no fault with.  
  
“Damn, you smell so good, ” she whispered into his chest and then his breathing did hitch when she kissed his neck.  “Really good.”  
  
Spike was done.  He couldn’t hold back any longer and there was no way he was misreading her signals.  
  
His voice was low, almost a growl, reverberating deep in his chest, vibrating through her.  “Buffy.”  
  
That’s all he said.  All he needed to say.  Just her name.  
  
His free hand curled up her side, sneaking beneath soft cotton flannel, his fingers brushing against her breast.  Urging her fully atop him with his other hand, Spike lowered his chin and captured her squeaked out surprise with his lips.  
  
Her legs fell open, straddling his narrow hips and Spike arched, thrusting his erection against her.  His hands swept up and down her bare back, teasing and soothing simultaneously.  Buffy mewled into his mouth and Spike thrust up harder against her.  Needing to breathe, he broke off the kiss, mumbling into her gasping mouth.  “Bloody hell, kitten, want you so much.”  
  
“You do?”  She wiggled, adjusting her hips to hold him close.  “Really?”  
  
“Since the moment I laid eyes on you.”  His hand pulled reluctantly away from her butt, and moved up, gathering her long hair into a loose ponytail.  “Yeah, since the very first.”  
  
“You’re not just saying that because I’m all over you?”  She was half teasing and Spike was aware enough to pick up on it.  
  
“Was afraid you wouldn’t want me, sweets.  ‘M not exactly. . . ‘m a bad, rude man.”  
  
Her breathy giggle went right through him, setting his nerves alight.  “So, you’re mad, bad and dangerous to know?”   
  
He laughed, catching onto her obscure reference.  “Jus’ call me Byron.”  
  
“So when I call out another name you won’t get all pissy with me?”  Buffy nipped playfully at his chin, waiting for his response.  
  
A low, playfully indignant response huffed from him.  “Now, now, kitten, ‘m too memorable to mistake.”  
  
“Oh, you got that right.”  She whispered it so softly against his neck that Spike wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly, so he chose to ignore her, instead focusing on their positions.  
  
“Are you sure about this?”  He held his breath, hoping she wasn’t about to pull the rug out from beneath him.  
  
“I’m sure.  The feeling is totally mutual.”  To emphasize her point, Buffy flexed her hips, squeezing him tightly, one small hand sliding under his shirt and the other into his hair.  “And really, if you don’t shut up and kiss me, I might think you weren’t.”  
  
With a twist of his hips, Spike rolled them over, nestling himself between her splayed thighs.  He shifted, sliding his right hand beneath her head, lifting her to meet his lips.  “Oh, I’m very sure I want you.”  
  
Buffy softly squealed, her heartbeat racing as he moved.  He’d felt big when she was laying astride him, but now, with him nestled even more intimately against her, she got a glimpse of his true proportions.  _He’s huge!  How the hell is that. . . oh damn, I can’t wait to feel him!_  
  
His left hand slithered under her shirt, fingers warm around the curve of her breast, his thumb brushing over her hardened nipple.  Her own hands wormed their way between his skin and denim, sliding under his waistband to rake her nails over his hipbones.    
  
Spike’s lips burned over hers, tongue questing inside her mouth.  She was burning him up, his skin and nerves on fire everywhere they touched.  Every bit of her was real, nothing about her was fake, and he was drowning in the taste and scent of her.  “Hell, kitten, need you.  Need to feel you.”  
  
He broke away from her mouth, nipping and pulling her lower lip as he did so.  Dipping his head, Spike laid a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her lips down to her collarbone, using his tongue to taste her.  His hands burrowed under the soft cotton of her nightshirt, tweaking her nipples.  Buffy arched into his touch, trying hard to keep quiet; her small hand cupped his cheek and she softly urged him, “Please, Spike, touch me.”  
  
Unable to keep herself from touching him, Buffy wrapped her legs around his narrow hips, holding him in place against her.  Spike drew back, his eyes steady on hers, his thumbs still swirling over her nipples.  “Wanna taste you, luv.”  
  
Without waiting for her permission or denial, Spike dipped his head, latching onto a nipple.  Teeth grazed the tender flesh of her aureole, making Buffy’s head spin and husky gasps sound from her throat.  She was babbling soft, incoherent words into the early morning air.  Every single breathy moan speared through Spike, notching his need for her.  He was losing his head, reeling from the taste and feel of her, suddenly wanting to crawl inside her skin, never letting go.  
  
Buffy’s hands weren’t still.  No part of her was.  Her hands roved over his body, desperate to find purchase, seeking to affect him as much as he was affecting her.  Her pulse was thumping through her veins, radiating out from his touch.  “Oh, God, Spike.  _Please_!”  
  
He couldn’t control his reaction, couldn’t slow down.  Spike knew he was drowning, lost in the feel of her.  Buffy’s breasts fit perfectly in his hands, almost as if she’d been special ordered for him.  Laying a trail of soft kisses from one breast to the other, Spike growled against her skin when she dragged her nails over the curve of his hip, clamping her fingers on his butt.  She held him in the cradle of her thighs, wanting, needing friction.  
  
His jeans were impossibly tight, his erection straining, pulsing with need for the wanton vixen writhing in his arms.  She gasped out his name and Spike lifted his head, watching her.  “Buffy, Buffy, what are you doin’ to me?”  
  
Her head cleared a bit and she smiled.  “Me?”  
  
“Yeah, you, woman. Haven’t felt like this in a good long while.  What the hell are you doin’ to me?”  
  
“Dunno.   Just. . . God, Spike, please don’t stop.”  She knew she was begging, but she couldn’t help herself.  Buffy hadn’t felt like this ever, like her skin was going to erupt into flame, like her heart was going to beat itself right out of her chest.  “ _Please_!”  
  
“Kitten, are you sure?  Wanna be skin to skin with you.  Wanna feel every inch of you . . . are you sure?”  He needed to know she was there with him, aching with the same need.  
  
“Yes, Spike, I’m sure.”  Buffy slid her hands around, opening the top button of his jeans.  She leaned up, nipping his chest playfully, a slightly breathy giggle erupting from her at his strangled yelp.  
  
“Oh, kitten, two can play that game.”  Spike dropped down, trapping her hands between them, attacking her face and neck with more kisses.  The giggles melted into sighs and moans, and Spike couldn’t hide his reaction.  Buffy’s nimble little fingers had managed to undo all his buttons and her hand was stroking up and down his cock, her thumb swirling over the belled head as she mewled into his ear.  
  
His hand cupped her butt, dipping beneath her sleep pants.  Pulling back a bit, breaking off his kisses, Spike stared down at the nymph in his arms.  With a deft flick of his hand, he slid two fingers inside her, watching her reaction.  She didn’t disappoint.  
  
Buffy gasped at the invasion, arching her hips in invitation.  “Oh. . . oh. . . Spike, please!”  
  
She was staring at him, her eyes wide and sparkling with need.  He hated doing this, but he certainly hadn’t planned on this at all.  “Buffy, luv, I’ve got nothing with me.”  
  
His fingers were thrusting in and out, his thumb swirling around her clit and Buffy couldn’t think with the sensory overload.  “What?”  
  
“Don’t have a condom, sweets.”  His voice was low and ragged, tinged with regret, yet his fingers never slowed movement.  
  
“Don’t care.  Don’t . . .”    Buffy grabbed his cock, pulling him gently toward her.  “I’m covered.”  
  
She wiggled out of her sleep pants, arching her hips toward him.  “Please. . . please.”  
  
It was the certainty and the need in her voice that finally pushed him over the edge.  Spike leaned down, his mouth seeking hers, fingers spreading her open for him.  “Want you so fuckin’ much, kitten.  You ready?”  
  
“Yes, damn it!”  
  
Angling his hips, Spike thrust into her, her warm pussy enveloping him, closing around him.  “Oh.  _Oh_!”    
  
She was tight, her walls impossibly, deliciously close around him.  His jaw clenched as he fought back the instinct to pound hard into her.  He’d never felt like this, wanting to pour his essence inside of her, marking his territory.  Buffy locked her ankles around his hips, holding him close, her hips lifting to meet his.  
  
He filled her so completely, Buffy could feel him all the way to her womb, every slide and thrust of his flesh against hers.  With each inward drive, Spike rolled his hips, hitting a spot inside her that had her gasping and crying.  Her brain shut down, coherent thought no longer possible.  Senses overloaded with the feel of him surrounding her, Buffy let go, surrendering to him.  
  
He’d never thought this was possible and then he ceased thinking, letting his body control his consciousness.  
  
Kisses, biting little nips, rasp of roughened fingertips over baby soft, fragrant skin, nipples brushing against hard muscles.  Skin sliding over skin, warm, wet pussy grasping around his impossibly hard cock.  Spike was drowning. . .    
  
Her breathing hitched, a soft keening moan of his name escaping from her, her pussy tightening and every muscle beginning to shake, Spike knew she was close.  His mouth hovered over hers, intent on capturing her cries of pleasure.  “Come for me, kitten. . . now. . . come for me.”  
  
Buffy felt the change, heard his voice begging her and gave in.  His name sprang in a harsh whisper from her mouth and he was there with her, growling his pleasure into her skin as she convulsed, wrapping her arms and legs around him, needing to feel him close.  
  
Spike lunged again and fell over the edge with her.  
  
  


*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*

  
  
It wasn’t too much later, after both of them had fallen asleep, when the sounds of very early risers began tickling at the edges of Spike’s awareness.  Generally speaking, these weren’t his normal sleep patterns, although since he’d started living with Drusilla and her brood, his schedule had undergone radical changes.  Because of his sister’s inability to take care of the children, that responsibility had fallen on his shoulders, and the series of nannies he’d been going through.  So now, instead of the heading off to bed in the wee hours of the morning, he was getting up before eight, seeing to things like school lunches and runny noses.  Part of him was in shock, still, after almost a year of this and part of him realized just how much he was missing by not having a family of his own.    
  
Spike listened with half an ear to the stirring of his fellow campers, especially the still quiet tent right next to them, but the majority of his attention was focused on the woman in his arms.  
  
Muted daylight was filtering through the thin nylon tent walls, bathing her in a strange blue light.  She was so honest, so real.  He couldn’t find anything about her he didn’t like, even the almost shy way she’d seduced him.  His hand brushed back a stray lock of her hair and a smile crossed his features.  He’d never liked or enjoyed watching a woman sleep, not even his last girlfriend.  They’d mutually dumped each other, though Harmony liked telling the world she dumped him.  The real truth was he couldn’t stand her.  She’d been not much more than a pleasant bed warmer, at least until she’d started making noises about commitment and what-not.  The second she’d started in with that, Spike knew it was time to let go.  He couldn’t see himself with Harmony for another year, much less the rest of his life.  
  
However. . . this sprite in his arms might be different.  
  
Buffy stirred, coming awake slowly as she felt someone’s eyes on her.  She nestled into the strong arms around her, bumping her nose into the hard chest next to her.  As she fought waking, her actions last night and earlier flooded through her and she groaned, blushing at her own boldness.  Not once in her life had she ever been so aggressive with a lover.  Not like that, anyway.  She’d practically attacked the man next to her, waking him out of a sound sleep and wantonly seducing him.  _He must think I’m such a ho-bag.  Damn, Buffy! What were you thinking?_  
  
His voice sounded in her ear and Buffy blushed furiously.  “Mornin’, kitten.”  
  
She dared to peak up at him, her embarrassment worsening at her first glimpse of his expression.  Buffy was barely able to squeak out her own greeting.  
  
Spike got an inkling of how she was feeling when Buffy buried her face against his arm.  “Hey, don’t be shy, pet.”  
  
He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at her, reveling in her nearness.  “Kinda like waking up next to you, princess.”  
  
“Really?”  She was surprised by his reaction, the smile playing about his lips and the sexy, tousled and debauched appearance he was sporting. “You aren’t mad at me for last night?”  
  
His expression, all aghast and truly surprised, clued her in that she might be misreading his amusement.  “You’ve _got_ to be bloody joking, pet.  I’d like nothing more than to keep you here all day and prove how happy I am about what you did.” His grin turned lascivious. “What we did, but I can’t.  Kiddies are all stirring and I can hear everyone waking up.  Thought you might appreciate the extra time to make yourself presentable.”  
  
 _Sexy and considerate.  Huh.  Go figure._   “Um.  Yeah.  I . . . thanks.  I do.  Appreciate it.”  
  
Buffy scrambled to pull up her discarded sleep pants.  Her hand accidentally brushed against his erection and she froze.  “I’m sorry.”  
  
Spike stilled her frantic movement by trapping her hand against him.  “Not gonna hide from anyone but the kiddies, sweetheart.  ‘M not ashamed or embarrassed.  Jus’ thought you’d wanna keep your boy in the dark about us, at least for a bit.”  
  
He squeezed her hand, reluctantly letting her go after a moment.  With a quick kiss on her lips, Spike slid from the sleeping bag.  
  
“A bit?”  Her eyes followed his every movement, drinking in the play of his well defined muscles.  
  
“Yeah.  Jus’ for a bit, til he gets used to another man hangin’ about his mum all the time.”  
  
With that rather cryptic statement, Spike ducked out of the tent, leaving Buffy to herself.  
                          
  


*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*

  
  
Breakfast was a hilariously funny event, with the entire troop of boys attempting to cook for themselves and their parents.  Spike sat on the sidelines, his eyes roving between Buffy’s laughing face and the antics of the two little boys that most concerned him.  Wesley was fine, behaving himself and competently handling the cooking, as well as any eight year  old could.  Xander, on the other hand, was going to need a complete hose-down when they were done.  Pancake batter was splattered all over him, from the tips of his brown hair down to the toes of his worn sneakers.  Buffy’s son was an absolute mess.  And he was thoroughly enjoying himself.  Although his poor mother was trying so hard not to laugh at him, it was impossible.  The boy was so excited and thrilled, he was having trouble controlling himself.  She glowed with happiness, her laughter affecting everyone around her.  Spike was trying so hard to stay aloof, give her a bit of space this morning, letting them both digest what had happened under the cover of darkness.  
  
Everything they’d done was imprinted in his brain, every gasping breath, every hissed sigh.  Spike got to his feet, heading straight for the tent.  Passing close by Buffy, he brushed a hand across her shoulder, feeling her skin leap to his touch.  A grin split his features and Spike reached for his pen and paper.  He had more than a few lyrics bouncing around in his head and pretty soon he was going to have to retrieve his guitar from the DeSoto.    
  
She tried avoiding his eyes, even as he watched her.  Buffy was trying to keep her cool, and thankfully, Xander was proving a wonderful distraction.  _My poor boy is going to need a shower, and soon._   Pancake batter and syrup were streaked down his face, matting his hair and covering him from stem to stern.  She didn’t want to laugh too loud, knowing he’d get upset and insulted, but she couldn’t control herself.  He was just too adorably cute.  
  
Buffy felt Spike’s attention shift again and she relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief.  That is, until he walked past her and brushed a warm hand across her shoulder.  Her eyes swung to watch him duck into the tent.  He was only inside for a few moments, just long enough to grab pencil and paper.  He went off a bit, moving his chair away from the chaos, and immediately began writing.  She watched him for a few minutes, wondering what exactly he was writing.  _Well, Buffy, he’s a writer.  He obviously gets inspired all the time._  
  
Xander called out to her and Buffy stared at the walking mess that was her son and cringed.  Dirt and grease had been added to the mix and the need for some sort of shower was imperative.  Figuring it would be easier to convince Xander to shower if he could head off with a friend, and knowing how the scouts stressed the buddy system, Buffy sent Wesley over to ask his uncle’s permission.  
  
The little boy was back in moments, a grin wreathing his features.  “He said any time you wanted to take me was okay, and that I should mind you, just like I mind Mum.”  
  
With a look over the boys’ heads, Buffy caught Spike’s eyes on her once again.  He grinned, which was really more of a leer, tucking his tongue against his teeth and Buffy’s answering blush made him laugh outright.  
  
  


*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*

  
  
  
Buffy didn’t see him again until lunchtime, when the troop was once again all in the same spot.  She’d herded the boys from the shower directly to their first activity, which was leather-working.  The boys had to make small pouches and Buffy found herself helping.  She purposefully pushed aside thoughts of Spike, focusing on the moment, instead of getting caught up in what-ifs.  
  
Walking down that path was not something she was ready for.  Yes, they’d had sex – pretty  damn good sex – but that wasn’t always the best basis for a relationship.  And she wasn’t even sure he was in the market for a relationship.  His somewhat cryptic last remark aside, Buffy knew they hadn’t talked at all about what happened between them.  Buffy almost didn’t want to have a discussion about what had happened.   
  
She knew it was crazy and stupid, but if this weekend was all they were going to have, then she didn’t want it tainted with heavy conversations that would ultimately end badly.  No, she’d much rather spend this weekend basking in the idea that the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on wanted her.  
  
It was a much better fantasy.  
  
When she and the boys got back to the camp, Spike was nowhere to be seen.  Buffy realized she’d been breathless, anticipating her first glimpse of him since earlier, and her expression fell considerably.  Her reaction was so noticeable, even the two little boys picked up on it.  Wesley merely watched while Xander tugged on her hand.  “Mom?  What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing, sweetie.  I was just hoping lunch would be ready.  I’m really hungry.”  
  
Xander scrunched up his face.  “Mom, you know we’re supposed to be doing all the cooking and stuff.  That’s what Mr. Finn said anyway.”  
  
Plastering on a fake smile, Buffy clapped her hands together.  “Silly me.  I forgot all about that.”  
  
Thankfully, Scoutmaster Finn’s wife was a bit more practical than her husband, and lunch consisted of nothing more complicated than grilled cheese and chips.  The boys enthusiastically set to work and Buffy was munching on her only slightly charred sandwich when Spike strode into camp, a guitar case in one hand.  
  
A smile and blush instantly covered her face when he made a bee-line for her, his eyes hidden by very dark sunglasses, but she could see the smile playing about his lips and Buffy couldn’t help herself.  She blushed bright red and watched him settle into the chair next to her.  
  
Under his breath, Spike whispered, “Missed you, kitten.”  
  
Without shifting to look at him, Buffy whispered back, “Really?  I missed you, too.”  
  
“Uncle Will, do you want a sandwich?”  Wesley stood in front of him, a rare grin on his features.  
  
“Sure thing, squirt.”  Watching his nephew head over to the makeshift griddle, Spike spoke again.  “What’s on the agenda for this afternoon?”  
  
“Riley said something about archery and then swimming.  Or that could be the other way around.  I’m not sure.”  
  
At that he looked at her, noting despite the sparkles in her eyes she appeared tired.  “Tell you what, kitten.  Lemme tag after the boys an’ you get some kip.”  
  
“Kip?”  Buffy looked at him, her eyes staring into his blue orbs.  
  
“Yeah, rest, nap, get some sleep.”  
  
“Oh.  Are you sure?”  
  
“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”  
  
“I am kind of tired.”  Before she could censor her mouth, she blurted out, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”  
  
Spike’s eyes twinkled and his leer sent tingles throughout her body.  “‘S why you should nap.  I plan on not sleeping again tonight.”  
  
And on that note, he and the boys were gone, leaving Buffy alone with her thoughts.


	3. Three

_**Three**_  
                  
In spite of every single misgiving he’d had before agreeing to bring Wesley on this trip, Spike was actually enjoying himself.  Quite a bit of that had to do with the stroke of luck regarding his overnight companion.  The remainder was because of his current situation.  
  
He never thought his years in school, on the archery team no less, would actually prove beneficial.  After swimming with the boys after lunch, their group had hit the archery range, and now here he was, proving the pompous-ass scoutmaster wrong.  
  
Spike had been showing both boys the correct shooting stance when Scoutmaster Finn ambled over and corrected his already correct stance.  The smug bastard then hit seven out of ten bullseyes, which wasn’t bad shooting.  Spike had quietly asked for the bow back, the only outward display of his simmering temper a ticking muscle in his cheek.  Taking aim, Spike quickly shot five out of five.  Grabbing the rest of the quiver being used by Xander, Spike stuck the arrows point first into the ground next to him.  Calmly, methodically and without a word, Spike shot all ten arrows into the center bullseye.  
  
Scoutmaster Finn stared at him for a few minutes, absolutely speechless.  The two boys were excitedly chattering away, pointing out all the arrows, clamoring for Spike’s attention and completely oblivious to the undercurrents of competition between the two adults.  With a raised eyebrow, he smirked pointedly at the Dudley Do-Right wannabe and then showed the boys how to shoot.  
  
While he normally didn’t indulge in one-upmanship contests, this time for some very strange and childish reason, Spike relished it.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
  
The tent was too damn hot to sleep.  There was also a distinct lack of a breeze.  Buffy had stripped off her sweatshirt, leaving her tank top and jeans on; which only gave her a little bit of relief.  Her sneakers soon followed and that didn’t help either.  
  
Giving up entirely, Buffy finally stripped off her jeans, hoping that would be enough.  Clad only in the tank top and her panties, Buffy rolled onto her belly, hugging both her pillow and Spike’s to her.  The rest of the camp was quiet, the only noises distant and far away.  Inhaling deeply, Buffy caught Spike’s scent and butterflies soared in her belly.  A smile crossed her face and she drifted off to sleep to thoughts of him.  
  
Roughly two and a half hours later, Spike ducked into the tent, stopping short when he registered what his eyes were seeing.  Bunched up socks covered her feet, but her legs were bare all the way up to her hips.  A pair of lacy hip-hugging panties covered the curve of her buttocks and the shadowy junction between her thighs.  The white wife-beater tee-shirt had ridden up during her nap, exposing a strip of golden skin above the panties.  Faint stretch marks showed, the only outward sign she had a child.  Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, blond strands clinging to her damp skin, though most of it was strewn out to the side.  Spike found his mouth drying at the vision of her bathed in the weird blue light,  making her look like a water nymph.  His fingers itched, and for once he wasn’t sure if he wanted to sketch her or compose . . . or simply run his fingers over her skin.    
  
Dropping down to his haunches, careful not to make too much noise, Spike reached out a hand.  Skimming his callused fingers over her smooth skin had vivid images running through his mind, pictures of the two of them together, locked in passionate embraces.  He was sure she could feel the force of his desire because he knew it was rolling off him in waves.  It had been a very long time since he’d felt this kind of pull toward any woman.  Sex had stopped being something full of wonder a very long time ago.  _Until last night._ He’d been so consumed by his need for her that it had taken every ounce of resolve he possessed to just let her sleep.  When she’d accidentally on purpose woken him, he’d been thrilled.  
  
Buffy shifted in her sleep, rolling closer into his touch.  Giving into his impulses, Spike ran his fingers up her legs, reveling in the satiny smooth texture of her skin.  She was tiny, though perfectly in proportion.  He watched her body respond to his touch, gooseflesh rising and nipples pebbling beneath white cotton.  
  
Spike ran a finger under the scalloped edges of her panties, sweeping over her hip bone.  _Sod it, I need to touch her._   Gently rolling Buffy onto her back, Spike stealthily slid her panties down and off her.  He knew this was wrong – bordering on assault – but he couldn’t resist when it came to her.  Teasing her with soft touches, Spike watched her face closely, waiting for her to open her magnificent eyes.  A soft whimper sounded in her throat and his touch grew surer, sliding over and around her pussy, barely dipping inside her before skittering off again.  Leaning down, his mouth close to her ear, Spike coaxed her to wakefulness.  “C’mon, baby, open those pretty eyes.  Lemme see you, princess.”  
  
Her eyes fluttered as he gently thrust a finger inside, his thumb brushing over her clit.  “Spike . . .”  
  
“Oh, kitten, wake up.”  
  
Sleepy golden-green eyes fluttered open, fixing on his face.  “Hey.”  
  
“Hey yourself.”  
  
She arched her hips, realization of his actions coming very slowly.  “Spike, what. . . _oh, God_.”  
  
Two fingers thrust up, searching inside her.  Buffy writhed under his touch and Spike watched her, his eyes drinking in the growing desire on her face.  “Sshhhh, baby, jus’ wanna make you feel good.”  
  
“Oh. . .”   The sound ended in a kittenish noise, and Spike couldn’t stifle his own chuckle.  
  
“What you do to me, kitten.  Make me wanna lick you all over.”  Buffy shivered, her hands scrabbling for him.  She pulled him close, her mouth hovering against his.  Tiny nipping kisses peppered his lips, but Spike resisted deepening the kiss.  Now that he’d given voice to his desire, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head.  
  
It wasn’t the time, though, or the place.  He barely had time to bring her off before the troop returned, they only had a few more minutes as it was.  Spike moved faster, his fingers bumping against the spongy bundle of nerves destined to drive her over the edge.  
  
Buffy was whimpering, gasping for air, unable to stave off her orgasm.  “Spike, please. . . _please_!”  
  
Her voice started rising in volume as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge.  Spike tapped his fingers against those nerves, sliding them inside her grasping channel.  Capturing her cries with his mouth, he kissed her deeply.  The instant their lips met, Buffy fell over.  
  
He pulled back, his gaze steady as she tumbled back to herself.  Shyness tinged with embarrassment colored her cheeks and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “Hey, kitten, don’t hide from me.”  
  
A small hand covered her face and he could almost feel the blush blooming.  “Can’t.   I’m so . . .”  
  
“Satisfied?”  
  
Buffy spread her fingers, looking at him from behind her hand.  “Embarrassed.”  
  
“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about, princess.  You’re beautiful; don’t you know?”  He nuzzled her hair.  “An’ you’re even more beautiful when you come apart under my touch.”  
  
“Spike.”  Buffy half protested as he slid his fingers out of her body.  Her eyes bulged and her mouth fell open when he sucked on his coated fingers.  
  
“Holy fuck, princess, you’re delicious. .. can’t wait to taste you for real.”  He chuckled, watching her expression change.  She was still embarrassed, but the shyness was disappearing.  Unfortunately, he could hear the high-pitched laughter signaling the end of their alone time.  Pulling her close for another kiss, Spike growled into her mouth.  
  
“Time to get up, kitten.  Troops are returnin’, an’ it’s nearly time for dinner as well.”  
  
Reluctantly Spike got to his feet, adjusting his erection and pulling out his tee-shirt to partially cover it.   
  
“Whenever you’re ready.”  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Lucky for them, dinner was actually prepared by some of the parents.  The hard part was trying to keep the boys contained while they waited.  The task proved nearly possible, until a very strange incident happened.  
  
Wesley and Xander, together with another boy, a little redhead by the name of Jordan, were fighting with another group of boys.  The adults were alerted to the situation when the noise around the group escalated.  
  
Shouts and angry words sounded in the air, drawing parental attention.  When Buffy realized Xander was involved, she dropped the stack of paper plates and rushed over.  Spike, who was on his way back from his car, his guitar in hand, happened upon the altercation from the opposite side.  
  
Wading into a sea of milling, shouting, and fighting eight and nine year olds, Buffy wasn’t much bigger than some of them.  Grabbing Xander by the shoulder, she pulled him off one of the other boys.  Wesley had his glasses off, and was holding one hand over a rapidly blackening eye, while Jordan was still fighting.  
  
“Xander!  What are you doing?”  Buffy whirled him around to face her.  “Are you fighting?”  
  
Struggling in her grasp, Xander started flailing his arms.  “He started it, Mom!  He called me and Wesley liars!”  
  
He broke free, heading right for the other boy, who was still shouting at Xander.  “You are a liar!”  
  
“Am not!”  Xander pulled back his fist and nailed the other boy right on the chin, knocking him off his feet.  
  
“All right, lads.  That’s enough.”  Spike’s angry voice, coupled with that of another parent stopped the boys’ chatter.  “What the bloody hell is goin’ on?”  
  
Handing his guitar case to Buffy, Spike held the two main combatants apart, while one of the other parents separated Jordan and his opponent.  
  
“Someone wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”  
  
A chorus of “nothing” greeted his question, to which he just raised one dark eyebrow, fixing all of the boys with a fierce look.  
  
He blew out his breath, disbelief in his very stance.  “Right then.  So all this ruckus is because you rugrats got nothin’ better to do?”  
  
Dead silence filled the air, broken only by the shuffling and shifting of small feet on dirt and branches.  Ten pairs of little eyes stared up at the blond man, watching wide-eyed as his temper started flaring.  He wasn’t overly tall, at least to another adult, but to the small children, Spike was an imposing figure.  A slight tic developed along his jaw line and he placed his hands on his hips.  The all black clothing he was wearing didn’t help the boys’ perception of him either and if there was one thing Spike knew how to do, it was play to an audience.  
  
Looking from one little boy to another, Spike found one who appeared more easily intimidated than any of the others.  “You.  In the green.  Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”  Waiting a beat while the boy shook his head no, Spike stomped closer.  “Talk.  An’ no lyin’, either.”  
  
The boy kept shaking his head until Spike stood directly over him, blocking his view of all the other boys.  
  
“They said you’re a rock and roll guy.  And . . . and . . . Larry didn’t believe Wesley.”  
  
“Who threw the first punch?”  Buffy finally spoke, almost dreading the answer.  
  
The little boy turned pleading eyes on Buffy, somehow thinking she’d be easier to deal with and not make him squeal on his friend.  But Buffy wasn’t buying.  She dealt with boys who were much more trouble than this bunch.  “Just tell the truth, Richard.”  
  
He hemmed and hawed a bit, shifting his weight from foot to foot, hoping for an out.  When he finally realized neither adult was going to relent, he whispered his answer.  
  
“Alexander Lavelle Kalderash!”    
  
When his full name exploded in the air, Xander knew he was in trouble.  He cowered away, hiding behind his friends, afraid to face his mother.  She was scary when she was angry.    
  
Knowing he was treading a fine line between mother and son, Spike reluctantly moved to intercept Buffy.  “One minute, pet”    
  
Spike peered down at Richard, a stern look on his features.  “So Xander hit first?”  
  
Richard’s eyes darted away, refusing to look at any of the adults.  He scuffed a foot in the dirt and mumbled something under his breath.  Casting an eye in Buffy’s direction, Spike moved to stand over Richard, looming over the small boy.  Part of him realized he was wrongfully intimidating the boy, but he had a hunch about what had happened, and he wanted to prove his theory right.  Also, he didn’t want to leave Buffy’s boy hanging in the lurch either.  _Wouldn’t hurt to be on the nipper’s good side, come to his rescue here, an’ get him out of trouble._  
  
He stood there, breathing heavily, knowing his very presence was scaring the little boy standing in front of him.  None of the boys moved, none of them made a sound, until finally, after long minutes, Richard sniffled softly, wiped his nose on his sleeve and spoke again.    
  
Turning triumphant eyes on the real culprit, who was belatedly trying disappear, Spike grabbed the little boy.  “Where’s your parent?”  
  
Buffy groaned, knowing she now had to confront the one person she absolutely didn’t want to.  Parker Abrams.  His little brat Larry was the one who’d really thrown the first punch, knocking Wesley’s glasses off and giving him a black eye as well.  The man, and apparently his kid, was a slime, hitting on her more than once, even in front of his wife at the last big troop meeting.  She stiffened, not wanting to do this at all, when Spike, with little Larry hop-stepping to stay in front of him, strode past her.  
  
“Pet, do me a favor?  Be a love an’ stay with Wes an’ see to his eye.  I’ll be back in two shakes.”  
  
And then all she saw was his back.  Just realizing she still had his guitar clutched in her arms, Buffy glanced down at the group of little boys staring after him.  Jordan wiped some snotty blood off his face, smearing it over his cheek, saying, “Dude, your uncle is way cool.”  
  
“Boys, what on earth possessed you to start fighting?”  She crouched down, cradling the guitar like an oversized baby, looking at the three boys.  Two pair of dark eyes blinked at her, while Wesley responded.  “Xander was just helping me, Mrs. Summers.  He . . . Larry wouldn’t shut up.  And I . . .”  
  
“I’m sorry, Mom.  But you always tell me to tell the truth and we were and they still didn’t believe us.”  
  
“So this was all about Spike being in a band?”  She shook her head, getting to her feet.  “Why didn’t you just tell the other boys to ask him?”  
  
“They were calling us liars.  And Larry said some bad words, Mom.”  
  
She sighed, leading them over to one of the tables.  Placing the guitar case against a tree,  Buffy motioned the boys to sit on the bench.  “Lemme see those faces and hands.”  
  
Ten minutes later, while Wesley held an icepack over his eye and Xander had his hands and a small cut on his lip cleaned, Buffy was tending to Jordan.  “How come you didn’t get a scratch?”  
  
A big toothy smile greeted her question.  “Coz I bit him.”   
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Dinner was a strained affair, the combatants on opposite sides of the campfire and neutral parties in between.  Gossip was flying back and forth, parents speculating about the truthfulness of Wesley’s assertion of Spike’s identity.  When Spike finally came back from his conversation with Abrams and Scoutmaster Finn, all chatter between the other adults died.  Most of the parents had heard the rumors, but at the monthly meetings, Spike was never around.  This camping trip was the first time some of the parents had gotten a look at him.  
  
For Spike, this kind of speculation and gossip was the norm and he barely paid it any attention.  This was nothing compared to the scrutiny of the press or intrusive fans.  Besides, he was in a relatively good mood, having just put both Parker Abrams and Riley Finn in their places.  Now he got to sit and spend time with his Buffy.  She was sitting in a folding chair, an eagle eye on the three little boys while Jordan’s father Ken cooked dinner.  Spike passed Ken, saying something that made the other man laugh, his eyes fixed on Buffy.  His genuine grin was enough, along with the glint in his eye, to set butterflies careening around her belly.  
  
Her reaction to him was something she hadn’t expected.  Just the thought of him was enough to fire her nerves, _but right now?  That look on his face . . . .  I know what’s going through his mind._ Buffy felt the blush blooming on her cheeks, and though she stole glances up at him as he came closer and closer, she kept her focus on the three little boys sitting quietly at the picnic table.    
  
He settled on the chair beside her, his legs sprawled out, his entire body loose-limbed and relaxed.  “Thanks, luv, for takin’ care of Wesley.”  
  
She swivelled to face him, a shy smile on her face.  “No problem.  It was easy to take care of him.  He’s gonna have a shiner, though.”  
  
“Yeah, gonna have a helluva time explainin’ things to his mum.”  He shook his head.  “Dunno how she’s gonna react, at all.”  
  
“She’ll be okay, it’s not serious.”    
  
Spike was shaking his head, and he unconsciously reached for her hand, meshing his fingers with hers.  “She’s not . . . she’s been in a bad spot for the last couple of weeks, an’ I’m not sure if this’ll set her back.  Last time Darla got sick, Dru spent a week heavily medicated.”  
  
Buffy thought for a moment, wondering what had set his sister on this path.  “Has she always been this bad?”  
  
“Not like this.”  He sighed, looking at the boys, then turning his head to look into her concerned eyes.  “She’s always been a bit. . . fey, is the word I would use.  When she was little she wanted to grow up to be Morticia Addams.”  A bitter chuckle broke from his lips and he shook his head again.  “Dru never smiled much as a kid.  An’, ah, she sees things.”  
  
“Things?  Like what?”  Buffy was intrigued, wondering about his sister.    
  
He leaned forward, pulling her toward him.  His voice dropped to almost a whisper, an intent look in his eyes.  “She’s a bit of a psychic, pet.  Sees and hears things the rest of us don’t.  Dru’s had a horrible time of things, especially lately.”  
  
There wasn’t anything Buffy could say. She didn’t know anything about psychics, so she put that information aside, preferring, instead, to focus on the information Spike had passed along.  It sounded like his sister had been clinically depressed for years.  “When did you find out about her depression?”  
  
“First time she tried to kill herself.  When she was in university.  I’d been gone four years at that point.”  Spike tugged her hand closer, then let go.  “Da got her help, an’ she took meds for years, until just before Wesley was born.”  
  
“And she’s been getting steadily worse since then, right?”  Buffy didn’t wait for him to answer, knowing what it was.  “I’m so sorry, Spike.  This isn’t easy on any of your family.”  
  
“No, it’s not.”  
  
Ken’s announcement that the burgers and hotdogs were ready effectively ended their conversation, leaving both of them to their thoughts.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
By nine o’clock, the boys were all secured in their tent; Wesley, Xander, and Jordan once more bunking down together.  Buffy almost suspected Spike of engineering that situation, until Xander had told his mother, “Since Wesley’s never allowed to sleep over, he’s sleeping over now.”  
  
He was so adamant about it, that she had to turn her head away so he wouldn’t see her amusement.  The fact that the boys’ plan fell in nicely with Spike’s was just a perk.  She kept telling herself that as she watched Spike pick out a tune on the acoustic guitar, his eyes closed and a low hum coming from his closed lips.  It was a soft and delicate finger-plucking melody, something she thought might be a complete departure from his usual thumping rhythms.  He’d written it all down as the boys were getting into their sleeping bags, and now he was just playing it over and over, listening to it flow in the night air.  Every once in a while, one of the other adults would pause and listen to the song, then go on about what they were doing.    
  
Buffy found herself watching him, watching the subtle shift of muscles in his hand as he  played the tune. She wondered just how many people got to see this side of him, the creative mind at work and thought perhaps that the number was very few.  He was so open, so vulnerable, just letting the music pour forth from him.  He looped through the song one more time and at the end he started softly singing, so low that no one really noticed the change from hum to lyric.    
  
She was too far away from him to hear the words, yet the tone of them called to something inside her.  Before she realized it, her feet were carrying her toward him, mesmerized by the sound of his voice.  Unwilling to break the spell from around him, Buffy just listened, not paying attention to the words at all.  His voice wasn’t as deep as his speaking voice, but it still sent goosebumps rippling over her flesh.  A warm feeling spread through her, setting those butterflies soaring and Buffy smiled.  
  
 _He’s just too damn . . . gah!  He’s just . . ._ _how do you describe when someone comes into your life and just, takes over?  How do you remember that there was a time before him, before he was a part of your life?_ Buffy felt like she’d never been aware of a man quite this way before.  Every inch of her ached for his touch, responding to the unconscious call in his voice.    
  
The words finally penetrated her brain and Buffy’s knees nearly buckled.  It was so haunting, so beautiful and she had no idea what the words meant to him, but they spoke to her.  She had no idea if it was the words or the way he was singing, but her heart was pounding in her throat and the pulse beats were echoing all over her body.  Her hands itched with the need to touch him, to be near and she gave in to the need, flowing toward him softly, her feet barely touching the ground.  
  
He sang the song one more time.  
  
 _I skimmed across black water, without once submerging  
Onto the banks of an urban morning   
That hungers the first light, much much more   
Than mountains ever do.  
  
And she like a ghost beside me goes down with the ease of a dolphin  
And emerges unlearned, unscathed, unharmed.  
For she is the perfect creature, natural in every feature  
And I am the geek with the alchemists’ stone.  
  
For all of you who must discover, for all who seek to understand  
For having left the path of others, you find a very special hand  
And it is a holy thing, and it is a precious time   
And it is the only way  
Forget-me-nots among the snow, it's always been and so it goes  
To ponder his death and his life eternally  
  
For all of you who must discover, for all who seek to understand  
For having left the path of others, you find a very special hand  
  
And it is a holy thing, and it is a precious time   
And it is the only way  
Forget-me-nots among the snow, it's always been and so it goes  
To ponder his death and his life eternally  
  
One bright blue rose outlives all those  
Two thousand years and still it goes  
To ponder his death and his life eternally _  
  
The strains faded out slowly and Spike finally opened his eyes, staring directly at Buffy, as if he’d known she was there the entire time he was singing.  Neither one of them spoke, nor smiled; Spike simply held his hand out to her and Buffy took it, leaning down to meet his upturned lips.  
  
Smoothly he moved the guitar from between them, standing up in a fluid motion to pull her closer to him.  Their lips parted, though his hand never left hers and Buffy sighed, leaning her head against his chest; over his heart.  
  
By tacit, silent agreement, they moved off, away from the other adults, walking hand in hand toward the large pond that everyone pretended was a lake.  Spike curled his arm around Buffy’s shoulders, guiding her over the barely visible roots and fallen branches easily.  They made the entire trip in silence, and Buffy didn’t realize he’d left the guitar behind until he swung her around to face him, resting hands on her hips.    
  
“I’m gonna kiss you now, sweetheart.”  
  
And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song, Bright Blue Rose, though I wish it otherwise, was not written by me. It was written by Jimmy MacCarthy (an Irish artist) and the version I have in my head was sung by Christy Moore (another Irishman) and it’s just so. . . . haunting. If you’ve a mind to go find it, it’s worth the listen. And since it’s sung by a tenor, and James is a tenor. . .


	4. Four

_**Four**_  
  
  
  
He nibbled on her lower lip, kissing her softly, while his hands pulled her closer.  Buffy was lost in his embrace, her senses reeling and her only thought was one that kept echoing through her head.  _Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind._   Her pulse was racing and Buffy didn’t realize she was clinging to him, her body molded to his.  
  
“You’re so damn beautiful.”  Spike held onto her, his hands slipping down her jeans to cup her ass, squeezing the handfuls gently.  
  
She gave him a misty smile, her eyes dark in her face.  Buffy was falling.  She just realized it; falling for this man so very hard.  It took everything she had not to blurt out the words, believing he’d run from her.  _Oh, God, this is it, Buffy Anne Summers. . . . you are head over heels for this man._  
  
Her smile ignited something in Spike that had been long dead, or at least he’d thought so.  Coming home to Drusilla and her children had awakened emotions in him that he’d suppressed and kept hidden for years.  He hadn’t wanted to want the normal things like a home and  family, focusing instead on his ambitions – record sales and Grammy awards.  But leaving the rat race behind, at least for a little bit, had got him thinking about home and family.  Having Dru’s children around him all the time had been a bit of an alarming wake-up call.  It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought.    
  
In fact, he was beginning to think he might want all that for himself.  And maybe, he thought, staring down at the dark green eyes of the woman who’d blazed into his life a scant twenty-four hours earlier, those things – _home and family_ – might still be within his grasp.  It was too soon to tell her, though the words were there, aching to be released from his mouth.  Instead of speaking, Spike brushed his thumb across her cheek, his smile genuine.  His lips swept over hers, feather soft, and his fingers slid beneath her shirt.  A low growl stole from his throat when Buffy pulled him closer, her small hands stealing down to squeeze his ass.    
  
She answered his growl with a soft breathy moan.   “You must think I’m such a slut.”  
  
His chuckle broke the tension her words engendered, and Buffy ducked her head, blushing deeply.  “No, pet, you aren’t like that a’ all.”  
  
His hands slid up, cupping her breasts and she gasped when both thumbs brushed over her hardening nipples.  “I know you, luv, can tell you’re a good girl.”  
  
She thought it was impossible to blush even more than she had, but Buffy discovered she was wrong.  He’d reduced her to a babbling mess, far worse than she’d ever been as a teenager.  She kept her head low, leaning her forehead against his chest.  
  
Spike lifted her chin, lowering his lips to meet hers, while his hands slid down to hold her against his burgeoning erection.  Buffy raised her leg, curling it around his hip.  He lifted her up, his tongue battling with hers.  Buffy’s fingers curved around his hard cock, gripping it through the barrier of his jeans and Spike growled into her mouth.  
  
His hands dropped, curling under her thighs, holding her tighter against him.  Buffy was lost in his kisses, not even noticing when his feet started moving or when her back hit the tree.  She did notice, though, when both his hands cupped her breasts, worming their way under her shirt.  Cursing the fact they were both wearing jeans and tee shirts, Spike pulled Buffy’s shirt up and over her head.  “Gotta see you.”  
  
Her skin picked up every stray beam of moonlight, glowing pearl bright.  He sucked in a breath as she reached behind herself to undo her bra, dropping it down on top of her discarded shirt.  His calloused fingers traced the faint lines of her veins, drawing ever closer to her nipples.  As they puckered and hardened under his touch, Spike’s mouth watered and he gave in to his need to taste her.  
  
Dropping down to his knees, he licked first one nipple, before taking the second into his  mouth.  His hands coiled around her hips, then drifted forward to unsnap her jeans.  Buffy’s fingers threaded through his curls, holding him close to her breasts.  A soft mewling sigh broke from her as his fingers dipped inside her jeans, weaving through her curls.  His groan of arousal sounded into her chest, causing her knees to buckle.  She sagged slightly and he took immediate advantage, using both hands to push her jeans down around her knees.    
  
Buffy shivered, only partially from the cold.  Goosebumps erupted everywhere he touched her and she finally opened her eyes to see his face etched with need, his gaze focused on her.  
  
Spike’s free hand trailed up her side, achingly gentle.  His lips followed the path of his fingers, alternating between open mouthed kisses and barely felt nips.  Gently he bit down where her breast formed, growling into her skin.  
  
Mindless babbling sounded from her, a near constant litany of his name laced with pleadings for him to not stop touching her.  Buffy’s hands traced constant circles over his skin, tugging on his curls.  Spike’s fingers moved in counterpoint, his touch gliding over her.  She arched into his touch, her body responding to his every motion.  Sliding his fingers over the slick folds of her pussy, Spike finally caught the hard nub of her throbbing clit, tugging on it.  She shook, nearly collapsing over his shoulder with each swipe of his fingers.  
  
Her name broke from him like a prayer.  
  
Two of his fingers slid inside her slick channel and her muscles contracted around them.  “Need to be inside you, kitten.  Are you ready for me?”  
  
“Yes . . . oh, hell, _yes_.  Please stop teasing me,” she gasped, her fingers tightening, digging into the strong muscles of his shoulder.  “ _Now_ , Spike.”  
  
With a last nip at her breast, Spike pumped his fingers at a steady pace.  He was fumbling with his belt when Buffy’s unsteady touch stopped him.  “Let me.”  
  
Making short work of his belt, Buffy quickly had his jeans open and her small hand closed around his erection.  It was his turn to tremble under her touch.  Her hand was warm, her touch sure, pumping his cock steadily in time with the thrusts of his fingers.  
  
Spike was babbling, his voice at a low, constant growl.  “Gonna take you now.”  
  
He surged to his feet, lifting her in his arms, mouth claiming hers.  His free hand tugged at her leg, pulling it free from her jeans.  Ripping through the cotton of her panties, Spike brushed his cock against her pussy.  “Guide me in, baby.  Do it.”  
  
Buffy hooked her legs around him, stealing her small hand between their bodies.  Raising herself up, Buffy guided his cock into her depths.  She gasped, raining kisses all over his face while Spike struggled to find a steady rhythm.  He tried spreading his feet, to get better balance, only to find he was hampered by the jeans around his knees.  Spike stepped forward, thrusting up into her, and lost his footing.  Stumbling about for a minute, his mind more on the sensations of being inside Buffy than his balance, Spike careened backward, landing flat on his back.    
  
She was still perched on his cock, only now the look on her face was one of pained ecstasy and Buffy shrieked, the sound echoing against the trees.  Her vaginal walls clamped down hard as he touched her womb, triggering orgasms for both of them.   
  
“Oh, my fucking God.”  She slumped down onto his chest, her entire body trembling.  “Are you okay?  Spike?”  
  
Her only answer was a deep groan and his arms curling around her, holding her still.  “Fuck.”  
  
An almost hysterical giggle broke from her and Buffy sat up again, looking down at him.  “You didn’t answer me.”  
  
“Not sure, kitten, ‘ll let ya know when I can feel my legs.”  
  
Brushing the hair out of her eyes, Buffy stared down at him.  His eyes were dark and she wished the light was better so she could see his expression.  She bit her lower lip, needing to move but afraid any movement would hurt – either one of them.  He’d fallen hard on his back and she’d landed heavily on him, on the one spot a man could really be hurt.  _Though it had hurt in all the right ways . . ._  
  
Spike groaned, shifting his shoulders and slightly dislodging her.  Buffy dropped one hand down onto his chest, trying to keep her balance and he grabbed her hand, meshing their fingers together.  He didn’t speak, just stared up at her and a slow grin played about his lips.  His free hand trailed slowly up her side, and she belatedly realized she was stark naked.  Cupping her breast, Spike eased into a sitting position, and tugged Buffy forward for a kiss.  
  
When she pulled away for air, Buffy traced her fingers over his closed eyes, feeling the faint lines in the corners and the scar bisecting his eyebrow.  His mouth closed on a nipple, and his knees rose, letting her rest back on his thighs.  Trailing small kisses in the valley between her breasts, Spike whispered into her skin, “You are so damn beautiful.”  
  
Unshed tears pooled in her eyes at his words and though she tried to speak, to say something, Buffy found the words choking in her throat.  All she could do was give him a gasping moan and thread her fingers into his hair.  Spike’s hand held her breast for his mouth, the rough calloused fingers sending shivers down her spine.  Her moans turned to outright whimpers when his mouth left her breast, and she focused enough to find him watching her.    
  
“Bloody nymph. . .” His words were gruff, harsh with passion and Buffy’s whole body reacted.    
  
“Spike . . . I . . .”   
  
“Shhhh, ‘s all right, baby.  I’ve got you.”  His cock moved within her and Buffy’s clit throbbed with need.  “Let it go, petal, jus’ let it go.”  
  
The shakes started internally, low and deep in her womb, rippling up through her spine, reverberating through her whole body.  Buffy clenched her hands around his biceps, her nails digging into his straining muscles.  “Spike. . .  _Oh_. . .”  
  
Spike reached between them, his thumb finding her clit with ease.   Pressing down on it, he held her as her whole body seemed to convulse.  “Oh, baby, tha’s it. . . jus’. . . . ‘m . . . hold on, luv.”  
  
His orgasm took him by surprise.    
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Their breathing settled, running together; both chests rising and falling in rhythm.  Spike laid there, Buffy’s head cradled in the spot between his neck and shoulder, her ear resting just over his heart, staring up at the stars.  He’d never felt so full of peace. . . so rested and so comfortable with another human being before in his life.    
  
Before he’d hit it big, relationships had kind of taken a back seat, his personal life sacrificed for the pursuit of fame and fortune.  He’d had his bumps in the road, most notably his first real girlfriend Darla, but that too had died.  Mainly because she was a domineering and demanding bitch,  but she’d also had to deal with groupies throwing themselves at him constantly.  And, to give her some credit, he hadn’t said no.  
  
But he’d never really been there, in all those sexual encounters.  Hadn’t really given of himself.  Hadn’t connected, not really.  He’d been going through the motions.  Truth was, he hadn’t wanted to leave himself open, hiding his real personality behind the stage one for so long that he’d almost forgotten that his real name wasn’t Spike, that his parents had baptized him William.  He found it ironic that he’d purposely introduced himself to Buffy as Will; a name he hadn’t willingly divulged to any of his bed partners in years.  
  
And yet, within seconds of just hearing her voice, he’d gone and done it.    
  
She shivered and Spike realized she was lying atop him without a stitch of clothing on.  His hands ran down her back, and she shivered again.  He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break this spell they seemed to be under, but he also didn’t want her getting sick.  He had plans – plans that didn’t involve nursing her back to health after a bout of pneumonia –  though playing doctor would have some benefits. . .   
  
Spike rolled onto his side, wrapping his jacket around her back, cuddling her close.  When her shivers didn’t cease, he reluctantly raised himself up on one arm, letting her head fall gently.  “Kitten, we need to get you warm.”  
  
“Mmm. . . don’t wanna move.”  It was the first thing she’d said in a while.  Her voice was sex-husky, and Spike fought his growing arousal.  
  
“Don’t want you gettin’ sick, either, pet.”  His fingers trailed down her back, sliding easily between the rounded cheeks of her firm buttocks.  The result of their last encounter covered her inner thighs and Spike slid his finger through it, sneaking into her pussy from behind.  She squeaked in surprise, her body jumping lightly in his arms.  He chuckled, whispering, “Gotcha.”  
  
In retaliation, Buffy bit down on his covered nipple, squirming when he thrust in a second finger.  “Oh, God. . . . you. . .” She nipped at him again, whispering,  “You got me. . . now what’re you gonna do with me?”  
  
His chuckle turned evil, and he growled down at her when she bit him for the third time.  “Keep biting me, little girl, an’ I just might eat you up.”  
  
She giggled then, laughter clear in her eyes.  “So you’re the big bad wolf?  
  
He stared at her for a second, not believing what she’d said or the playful tone she’d used.  He sat up, slipping off his jacket and staring down at her.  With a gleam in her eye, Buffy smiled up at him and without once averting her eyes, she lifted up a little and bit him again, right at the junction of his neck and shoulder.  Spike gave an unmanly yelp then growled at her.  “That does it!  If you’re gonna bite, little girl, ‘m gonna bite right back.”  
  
Her spluttering laughter caught him by surprise and he huffed at her.  “Gonna huff and puff. . .”  
  
Before she could finish that sentence, he was on her, his lips attacking every available, exposed spot of flesh.  His touch was everywhere, her breasts, neck, collarbone, belly . . . thighs.  He loomed over her, and though she couldn’t see his expression clearly in the dark, his tone of voice was a dead give-away.  “Oh, _yeah_ , baby, I’m gonna _eat_ you all up.  
  
Laying open mouthed kisses along the curve of her lower belly, Spike thrust two fingers into her soaking pussy, his intentions very clear.  The kisses moved lower, brushing just over her mound and Buffy writhed under his touch, her senses on overload.  She’d never been with a man this insatiable, and she didn’t . . . . couldn’t believe he was ready for her again.  And going down on her _after_ they’d both cum?  That was a first. . . and when she had a moment of coherency, Buffy thought this might just be one in a very long line of firsts for them. . .   
  
Her mind whirled when instead of attacking her, he rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him.  His barely growled order for her to ‘slip into my jacket, pet’ barely registered with her until he lifted it up over her shoulder.  Fingers still inside her, pumping steadily, Spike chuckled at her dazed response.    
  
She was sitting high up on his chest, her breasts jutting out in front of him, but his hands were trapped, one inside her, and the other curled up around her ass, pushing her forward.  His need to taste her overrode his need for her breasts and Spike focused on her quim.  Lifting her up, over his mouth, Spike inhaled deeply, an unconscious growl rolling through his chest.  Buffy quivered, her gasping breaths barely heard over the noises emerging from his throat.    
  
His mouth was watering with need for her and he gave in, his tongue lapping at the folds of her pussy.  She dug her fingers into his arms, nails pricking his skin, indenting small half moons on his taut biceps.  Spike growled again when she bucked her hips and he increased the pressure of his hands, holding her still.    
  
“Oh, fuck!”  Her exclamation struck him as funny, coming from her, and he laughed low and throaty, which just caused another shriek from her lips. “Holy . . . oh, _God_!  Spike!”  
  
He did it again, just to feel her bucking and writhing, perched precariously as she was on his hands and mouth.  She didn’t disappoint him, her hips wriggling as his laughter increased.    
  
“Evil . . . man.   Don’t laugh.  So not. . . ” She shrieked when his teeth nipped at her clit.  “Not . . . _oh_!  Funny, William.”  
  
The sound of his real name on her lips shocked him, slowing his movements and almost halting his laughter.  He wanted to hear her say it again, just because of the way she’d breathed it . . . almost as if it were a plea. . . .   Spike licked around her clit, then sucked on it greedily.  
  
“Will. . .” She drew out the sounds, keening softly into the night air.  Her body was shaking now, and she jerked as he bit down gently, his fingers pumping up into her slick channel.  “My. . . _God_. . . Will. . .”  
  
Her head fell back, her long hair reaching down toward the middle of her back, breasts upthrust, an offering to the heavens.  He wished he could see her, wished he could have this moment ingrained on his brain forever, as she convulsed in orgasm.  Spike moved quickly as the tremors started, tearing his mouth from her and pushing her down toward his aching erection.  
  
With one hard thrust, he was buried inside her to the hilt, his hips lifting up, while she churned over him.  Her hands fell onto his chest, holding on for balance.  He grabbed her hips, his fingers gripping, digging into her tender flesh.  “Oh baby, need you. . .  cum for me, kitten, all over me.”  
  
His mouth was running, babbling about how tight she was, how he never wanted to move, always wanted her, wanted to stay inside of her forever.  Something within Buffy broke, some wall or dam that had been blocking her emotions since her divorce, and tears pooled in her eyes, her heart taking in his words, bathing in them.  Her body convulsed around him, her vaginal walls tightening almost painfully, and she clutched at him, holding on because she couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the tremors.  Nothing was real except for him, his touch, and his voice echoing what she was so afraid to say, but no longer afraid to feel.  
  
“Holy _fuck_ , kitten. . . . love . . . feel you. . .” He thrust wildly, rolling her over to pound into her, seeking his own release.  “Fuck. . . . _fuck_. . .”    His hips swivelled, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves at her core, and his mind went blank as the movement triggered another orgasm for her.  “Gotta. . . _oh, baby_ , drown me. . .”  
  
Buffy pulled his head down, her lips seeking his, her fingers tunneling into his curls, spasming in time with her orgasm.  They breathed into each other’s mouths, gasping, incoherent, disjointed words whispered, barely spoken words hovering between them.  “Will. . . . _oh. . . Will. . .”  
_  
He chanted her name, interspersed with nipping kisses on her lips then he froze, his body rigid with the release his muscles, his heart – every last atom of his being needed.  His seed flooded into her womb and Spike collapsed against her throat, breathing harshly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
      
  
Her underwear was in tatters.    
  
Buffy stared down at the shredded bits of cotton and lace in her hand, a stunned sort of disbelief dulling her senses.  _He ripped through my panties to get to me. . ._ The proof of his overwhelming desire for her – plain Buffy Summers, of the not model or groupie looks – nearly had her dropping to her knees.   As it was, she sort of crumpled, her automatic motions stalling with the epiphany she’d just had.  
  
Spike Giles, the sexiest man to ever grace the rock and roll stage, at least in her opinion, wanted her badly enough to rip her panties.  She was having a hard time wrapping her brain around that thought, her thoughts sluggish from the multiple orgasms he’d just wrung from her body.  Buffy stole a glimpse up at him as he moved around slowly, trying to find her clothes and stretch out his muscles.  He looked to be as dazed as she was, because every couple of moments, he’d stop, look around, let his eyes fall on her and then he’d stay still for long minutes.  It was still too dark to see his expression, but the set of his shoulders and his loose-limbed movements eased a small knot in her belly every time he paused.   
  
Buffy balled the remains of her underwear into her fist, jumping when Spike appeared at her side, his hand outstretched.  It took her a moment to realize he was holding her shirt, and she looked up at him, shyly taking it.  He crouched down beside her, their faces just inches apart.  She could finally see him in the low moonlight.  His expression was filled with concern, and it warmed her a bit to see it.  It meant he wasn’t just using her for sex, or at least that’s what she was telling herself, and she refused, at this moment, to think otherwise.  
  
“You okay?”  His hand reached out to cup her cheek and she unconsciously curled into it, allowing his warmth to seep into her.  “Can you stand up?”  
  
A breathy little giggle broke from her lips, and Buffy stared at him for a moment.  _He is so damn good looking . . ._ Embarrassed by her thoughts, Buffy closed her eyes, hoping this wasn’t about to end badly.    
  
“Sweetheart?”  His thumb brushed over her cheek, and she couldn’t resist the plea in his voice.  
  
“Mmm?”    
  
“Look at me, pet.”  The low husky timbre of his voice had her whole body reacting, and her bare nipples stood out, more from his tone and proximity than the cold. His hand closed over the closest breast and Buffy shivered, goosebumps reappearing all over her body.  “ _Kitten_. . .”  
  
She leaned into his touch, reveling in the feel of his hands on her once more.  He brushed a tender kiss on her forehead, then dropped another on the crest of her breast.  “Baby, much as I wanna take you again, bury myself inside you an’ stay for the night. . . .” He paused, running his thumb over her distended nipple. “An’ you’re more than tempting. . . but you have to be sore.”  
  
Buffy blushed, starting to shy away, thinking he was brushing her off, but his next words eased the sudden apprehension she was feeling.  “No, _don’t_. . . wanna take you again an’ again, until I’m so spent I can’t move.  But sweetheart, this isn’t the time or the place.  Want you in my bed, all nice an’ comfy. . .  so don’t think for a second tha’ this is it for us.”  
  
He waited for her reaction, watching her carefully and when she finally turned to look at him, the tremulous smile on her features warmed him, loosening the fleeting worry that she wouldn’t want more.  “I’d like that, Will.  I really would.”  
  
“Good.  So. . .  can you get up?”  
  
“I think so. Help me?”  She reached for his shoulder, attempting to gain her feet.  When her muscles wouldn’t obey her brain’s command, Buffy slumped against him, whapping him halfheartedly when his chuckles finally registered.  “Meanie.”  
  
“‘S all right, sweets.  Lemme do it for you.”  He pushed her jeans up, covering her as he kissed the spot just over her mound.  Her shirt followed, and Spike sighed, grumbling, “Would rather you stay naked an’ wet for me.”  
  
Buffy spoke before she realized what she was agreeing to. “Sounds nice.  Could we do that soon?”  
  
His low laugh went straight through her.  “Oh, baby, I’d love to keep you like that for a week . . . at least.”  
  
He could feel her blush, and his laughter increased, holding her tight against him. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you back to camp.”    
  
When her legs refused to move, Spike sighed and lifted her easily into his arms.  Buffy snuggled into his hold, a smile playing about her lips.  _Oh, I could so get used to this. . ._


	5. Five

Five  
  
Buffy hissed the instant her back hit the sleeping bag, realizing for the first time just how silly it was to have naked, sweaty sex up against a tree.  Her back felt like it was on fire, and although she couldn’t feel blood flowing, she imagined there might be one or two slices in her skin.  She quickly rolled over onto her side, facing away from Spike, who was busy undressing and probably didn’t hear her gasp of pain.  At least that’s what she was banking on.  Why she was hiding it from him escaped her at the moment.  Buffy wasn’t sure that was the best course of action, but she did it anyway.  
  
The air mattress dipped slightly under his weight, not evening out until he stretched out behind her.  His arms swept over her form, pulling her close and this time, she couldn’t hide the small flinch.  Spike pulled back, whispering, “Sorry, kitten.”  
  
He moved further away and Buffy’s stomach clenched.  She knew what he was thinking, or at least thought she did.  Quickly rolling over to her stomach, Buffy reached out a hand, fumbling in the dark for him.  He’d settled on his back, fists at his side, and that was the first thing she found, his tensed fist.  Her heart contracted along with her belly.  “No, that’s . . . I’m sorry.  My back. . .”   
  
Her voice trailed off into nothing, and she cursed the fact that whenever she tried to have an intelligent conversation with him, her tongue got all tied up in knots and her brain froze.    
“Sweetheart?  What’s wrong?”  
  
A dejected sniffle alerted him to the fact that she was fighting tears and she shook her head, unable to answer him.  Sensing the gesture rather than seeing it, Spike eased closer, his warm hand soothing her, running down her side.  “What’s wrong?”  
  
“It hurts.”  
  
“Lemme look at it, yeah?”  He leaned over her, reaching for the flashlight she’d left on her side of the mattress.  Scooting down, he flicked the switch and lifted up her loose t-shirt.  Dozens of tiny red scrapes and splotches marred the otherwise flawless skin of her back and Spike grimaced when he saw dirt in one of the cuts.  “Where’s the first aid kit?”  
  
“In my backpack.”  Her voice was muffled by the pillow, but he heard the faint whine in it.  Glad that she couldn’t see his slight smile of amusement, Spike swung the flashlight around, looking for her backpack.  Spying it in the far corner, he leaned over her again, careful to keep himself from touching her back.  He snagged it on the first try.  
  
He fished out the necessary supplies before snapping the lid closed and chucking the kit into the backpack.  Spike got to his knees, trying to figure out how to do this without waking anyone else up, or having them figure out what was going on.  They were already pushing it, leaving the boys with Ken earlier, and he knew there was going to be some serious gossip in the morning.  Right now, though, he needed to take care of Buffy.  They’d worry about tomorrow when it happened.   
  
Inspiration struck, and he moved down under the sleeping bag, whispering for Buffy to roll over onto her side. “Gonna get you all taken care of, kitten.”  
  
“How bad is it?”  She’d been strangely quiet up until that moment, just breathing shallow breaths, letting him get everything together.  
  
“Not that bad, baby.  Just a few scratches an’ a bruise or two.  Be right as rain in a few days.”  He opened up one of the alcohol pads, remarking, “This might sting a bit.”  
  
She tensed, bracing herself for the sting and hissed again at the burning sensation.  Tears sprang to her eyes and Buffy was very glad she was facing away from him.  She’d really rather he didn’t see her acting like a baby.  
  
It didn’t take him long, though he used more than one swab.  She was panting by the time he was finished and he thought he detected more than one sniffle and barely whispered ‘ow’ while he was working.  Thinking about how every mother the world over always soothed cuts and bruises with kisses, Spike decided that wasn’t a half bad idea.  His right hand curled over her hip, running up her side to the spot where her breast swelled and he leaned in, placing little kisses over each tiny little cut.  
  
He felt her shiver and a smile quirked his lips.  Buffy scooted closer to him and her hand reached down to cover his.  His lips traced over the cuts again, slower and more methodical this time, lingering especially over the ones low on her back, where it curved into the swell of her ass.  
  
Another set of shivers overtook Buffy’s body and Spike started all over again, moving up, toward her neck.  His hand pulled her closer to him, and he pushed his leg between hers, thrusting his hips gently.  Spike opened his mouth, nipping just beneath her ear, whispering lowly, “How’re you feeling now, kitten?  Any better?”  
  
Her ‘Mmmhum,’ of delight was all the answer he got, though she did wriggle her hips into his.    
  
His low, throaty chuckle against her neck was her complete undoing.  Buffy’s entire body tingled, gooseflesh rising and every hair on her body standing at attention, waiting for Spike’s next move.  Her hips moved again, and she gasped out his name breathlessly when his growling laugh sounded next to her ear.  
  
“Will . . .” Buffy half turned, bringing up her hand to cup his cheek.  “ _Please_ , Will. . .”  
  
“Please, what, kitten?”  His hand cupped her breast, fingers rolling her nipple then tugging on it gently.  “Are you ready for me?  Want me again?”  
  
“Yeah huh.”  She couldn’t form coherent thoughts, his roughened fingers caressing her soft flesh enough to send her careening into sensory overload.  Every nerve ending was sensitized, ready for his touch.    
  
“Tha’s good, baby, coz I want you.  Wanna be inside you.”  Spike traced a line from her breast down, over the soft curve of her belly, burrowing under her loose sleep pants to slide over her pussy.  His thumb found her clit, swirling over it in increasingly smaller circles, and his fingers parted her folds, opening her up for him.  “God, I love the way you feel. . .   Love . . .”  
  
He bit down on his wayward tongue and his throat closed up, his heart wedging there.  He couldn’t tell her yet, dare not tell her.  _It’s too soon_ , his mind was screaming, warring with his heart.  Instead, Spike occupied his mouth a different way, leaving tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, any part of her he could reach.  
  
Buffy’s hips bucked and Spike pushed her pants down, tangling them up in his feet.  He’d slipped on a pair of sweats, and now he was cursing his nobility and trying to get himself free when she slithered out of them on her own.  She was deliciously naked against him now, and his fingers buried themselves back inside her welcoming heat.  “Need to be . . . God, woman. . . lemme in.”  
  
A breathy giggle broke from her lips and she whispered back at him.  “Want you too, Will, but . . .” Her hands tried reaching around to free him from his sweats but she couldn’t reach.  “Will, take off your clothes.”  
  
Her voice was a sweet imitation of his growling one and Spike chuckled again.  “Hang on, baby.”  
  
With quick, economical movements, Spike slid his sweats down just far enough to free his cock.  Moving just as quickly, he lifted Buffy’s leg over his own and slid into her from behind.  “Oh. . . baby.”  
  
“Will!”  Her muffled shriek surprised them both.  He laughed again from the sheer relief of joining with her once more.    
  
He mumbled into her shoulder, “Kitten, I could stay like this forever,” and was surprised when she quipped back, “Would much rather be face to face with you.”  
  
Spike froze mid-thrust then pulled out of her fully.  When she protested, whimpering and trying to grab hold of him, he rolled her over to face him.  “Wanna see you too, baby.  All the time.”  
  
His hips surged forward at the same time that his hand lifted her thigh over his hip and her hand guided him inside her.  Their lips met in a slow, deep kiss which ended as he bit down softly on her lower lip.  Buffy’s hands cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones, memorizing the texture and feel of him. They surged together, moving slowly, none of the fever of their earlier couplings needed now.  This was slow, languid . . . building into a steady burn that surged through them both.  
  
Spike’s hand were sweeping over her soft body, molding and cupping her breasts, the smooth cheek of her ass.  He rolled onto his back, keeping her close, his mouth seeking hers.  “Need you so much, Buffy.  So fucking much.”  
  
Buffy moved, lifting herself up a bit, but Spike held her down, flexing his hips.  “No, baby.  Stay here, like this.”  
  
There was almost no friction, just infinitesimal movements.  She shivered and gulped for air, feeling him pulse inside her.  Her vaginal muscles constricted and he gasped, feeling the tightening all the way to his toes.  “Oh, bloody hell, do tha’ . . . yeah.  Jus’ like tha’.”  
  
She grinned at his reaction, tucking her head in the crook of his shoulder.  “Oh, Will. . . I love . . . this. . .”  
  
Their combined orgasm was slow, deep, and prolonged.  Each slip and slide of his flesh inside hers triggered another, building on the smallest surge until the waves drowned them both.    
  
Spike curled onto his side, still deep inside Buffy, holding her within the circle of his arms.  Her breathing evened out long before his and the last coherent thought he had was _I’d give anything to fall asleep like this for the rest of my life.  
_  
Somehow, he knew he was going to make that happen.  
  
      
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Despite the fact they’d been the last ones asleep the night before, Spike was up early.  He knew he couldn’t do any more damage to Buffy’s reputation, so he’d forced himself to sleep lightly, stirring long before any of the others were up, including the children.  Spike never slept well outside of his own bed anyway, even in hotel rooms, and sleeping on a very uncomfortable air mattress didn’t help matters.  First thing he was doing when he brought Wesley back home – after a shower – was sleep for a couple of hours.  
  
Reluctantly parting from Buffy’s warm embrace, Spike pulled on his jeans and donned a necessary sweatshirt.  It was cold, and he could see his breath puffing in the early morning mist as he got a warm fire going.  He knew the scouts were scheduled for breakfast and then some sort of closing ceremony; the campgrounds had to be vacated sometime before one in the afternoon.  Guessing at the hour, he figured he might as well start a fire, since they boys were going to have to cook again.    
With time on his hands, and no one to distract him from his thoughts, Spike found his mind wandering.  He wondered what Dru was going to think about all this, his meeting Buffy and falling head over heels within the course of thirty-six hours.  She had been the driving force of most of his long-term relationships, pushing he and Darla together when they were just kids, and staying mad at him for years after they’d split.  He sometimes wondered if that was why her oldest daughter was named Darla, but he’d never once dared bring it up; knowing she’d likely fly off the handle at him.  Drusilla had to have met Buffy – even in passing – because their boys seemed to be good friends.  He wondered what the hell else he’d been missing on the weekends when he had escaped to Los Angeles.  _Wouldn’t put it past m’sister to have planned this whole thing. . .  
_  
His gaze drifted from the now crackling fire to the tent he’d vacated not too long ago.  Inside those flimsy nylon walls was someone who’d burst into his life like a shooting star, all brilliant and burnished gold.  Buffy was unlike any other woman he’d met in his whole life.  She was smart, funny, adorable. . . and though he’d met a fair share of women with all those qualities, and some with better bodies, he’d never met one with everything.  A smile crossed his features as he remembered some chick flick that Dru had made him sit down and watch.  He hadn’t minded because Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock were in it – both of whom he’d later met in reality – and he’d been caught by the wishes of Bullock’s character.  She’d wished for someone when she was small . . .  He’d never told anyone but when he was younger, he’d had this imaginary friend and she was a small fairy type, with golden hair and whirly eyes and . . .   
  
Spike smiled once again, thinking that just maybe he’d wished for her to be real long enough and hard enough that the universe had listened and taken pity on the lonely little boy he’d been.  
  
Part of him wondered, perhaps, if Dru had known all those years ago, since she, too had been one to have imaginary friends.  She’d always gone on about the pixies anyway. . .  _Maybe. . .  Nah._   Spike shook his head, smiling at his thoughts.  He wasn’t going to analyze this to death.  He was just going to enjoy the gift he’d been given and thank whatever forces had brought them together.  Now he just had to figure out how to solidify things. . . keep her forever.  
  
He didn’t want to lose her.  Didn’t want to let this . . . whatever this was between them drift away into the ether.  Spike wanted to . . .  _Admit it you wanker, you’re in love.  For the first time in years, you’ve gone and fallen.  So what do I do now?_  
  
Buffy wasn’t like any of the other women who’d drifted into his life.  He already knew that.  With the groupies and the others he came into contact with, he didn’t have to work at all; didn’t have to wonder what their preferences about dinner were, or what kind of flowers they liked, what kind of movies they preferred.  No, all he had to worry about with them was how to get rid of them when he was done using them.  Occasionally,  he’d had to get nasty with some of the more persistent ones; even going so far as having restraining orders on a couple.  He knew how to get rid of a woman.  He just wasn’t so sure he knew how to hold onto one.  
  
And he wanted to.  Wanted to hold onto her until he was old and grey, with their children and grandchildren all around them.  _Hang on a tick. . .  children?  
  
Children.    
_  
The fire crackled, throwing wild sparks up to the still dark sky and Spike followed the sparks, his eyes drawn to the few stars still twinkling in the sky. _Yeah, children sounded damn good._  
  
So good, in fact, he wondered if they’d been lucky enough to get caught.  They’d certainly gone at it enough this weekend to have it happen,  but the odds weren’t exactly with them.  It was a long shot at best, and Spike was aware that her getting pregnant both made things easier and harder.  It would be one way to make certain she didn’t slip from his grasp. . .   though he was sure that wasn’t how he wanted things to be.  He wanted her, yeah . . . wanted her to bear his children, too, but he didn’t want to coerce her.  He wanted her to willingly bind herself to him.  T _alk about a tall order, mate. . . she’s only just met you.  Maybe she’s not feeling the same, did ya happen to think of that?_  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Buffy was dreaming.  She knew she was.  Dreaming about crystal blue eyes and strong cheekbones and calloused fingers and . . . . her eyes fluttered open and she curled into the sleeping bag, seeking warmth that was no longer there.   _Damn.  I knew it was too good to be true.  Bleah.  
_  
Except, when she stretched, her back itched and pulled, indicating something had healed overnight and she was bare-assed naked.  Her body was sluggish and lethargic and sore in so many places.   Burying her head underneath the edges of the sleeping bag, leaving only enough space for air to get in, Buffy drifted along in a sleepy haze, her mind wonderfully blank.  Until the sleep starting clearing itself from her head and the outside noises began penetrating her brain-fogginess.  
  
 _Oh. . .  where the hell. . . . right, Xander’s camping trip. **OH!**   _Her mind woke up, hearing the faint noise of a guitar being plucked and strummed not to far from where she was trying to go back to sleep.  _No. . . oh yeah, girl.  It was all real, every last instant.  
_  
Her body was achy, unused to so much sexual activity.  It had been years since she and Angel had engaged in marathons, probably since before they had gotten married.  _Ugh. So don’t wanna think about him. . . not after last night._   Thoughts of what she’d been doing and with whom consumed her.  Embarrassment flooded her and she blushed, wondering what he must be thinking about her. _Bet he thinks I’m just another girl in a long line . . . Ugh!  So need to stop that.  
_  
 _He’s not thinking that way.  
  
He’s not_.  
  
Buffy fought with the clothes bunched at the bottom of the sleeping bag, struggling to get something on before her all-too-curious child came looking for her.  She could hear his voice mixed in with the other boys and figured she only had a little bit of time before he came charging into the tent.  From what she could tell, nearly everyone else was awake, which just added to her stress.  They’d made no secret of their attraction to each other, and Spike had asked Ken to keep an eye out for Xander and Wesley while he and Buffy went off for a walk last night.  _Right.  Like anyone had bought that excuse.  
_  
Sure enough, just as she was pulling a tee shirt on over her head, Xander’s excited voice sounded outside the tent.  Bracing herself for the impact of his eight-year old enthusiasm, Buffy was struck dumb when she heard Spike’s voice.  “Hey there, Xander, leave your mum be.  She was up late.”  
  
What surprised her was his proximity, and the softness of his tone.  He wasn’t yelling; was in fact almost whispering to her son, who – to her further surprise – was apparently listening.  “Okay.  Should I make everyone be quiet?”  
  
She blinked away the sudden tears that question and the caring behind it evoked, and rolled to a sitting position.  _No need to be all damselly. . ._ Buffy smiled, thinking that her earlier thoughts might just be a bit off.  There might just be more to this thing between them.    
  
She sure as hell hoped so, because she was pretty sure she was falling in love with him.  
  
Her first sight of him after emerging from the tent had her amending that thought.  
  
He was crouched down, speaking to her normally fidgety son, each of them focused on the other.  Xander was staring at Spike, his head nodding up and down, not interrupting until Spike had finished.  When he was done, Xander looked down at his hands and shrugged.  He then stole a glance toward the tent.  His smile was broad and captivating, and he looked so much like his grandmother that Buffy had to laugh.  He got nothing from her or Angel, looking so much like his Romanian grandmother that he could be considered her son.  He pointed at her, and Spike rose to his feet, spying Buffy watching them both.    
  
Almost identical grins crossed their faces and Buffy couldn’t help herself from responding.  Xander sprang to his feet, crossing the distance between them at a run.  “Hey, Mom!”  
  
He wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tight.   Spike took his time, allowing them a moment, before sauntering toward them.  Buffy hugged Xander back, lifting her eyes to find Spike standing just inches away.  She blushed, seeing the twinkle in his eye and knowing exactly what he was thinking.  
  
“Mornin’, kitten.”  
  
“Good morning yourself.”  
  
“Mmm. . . ‘s almost a good mornin’.  Could’ve been better.”  Her smile faltered a little bit, until he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Could’ve woken up inside of you, feeling you surroundin’ me.”  
  
Buffy gaped at him and then ducked her head in an effort to hide the blush creeping over her face.  “C’mon, sweetheart, saved you some breakfast an’ coffee.”  
  
“There’s donuts, Mom, and hot chocolate.”  Xander grabbed her hand, tugging her forward.  “No mini-marshmallows, though.  Someone forgot and brought only the big ones.”  
  
She tripped along beside the two of them, a little overwhelmed by their enthusiasm.  Buffy glanced around, noting that none of the other parents even looked in their direction.  “Will?  How long have you been up?”  
  
“Hours, pet.  Was the first outta bed this mornin’.”  At her crestfallen expression, he leaned in closer.  “Wanted to stay put, but . . .”  He quickly scanned the rest of the campers, his expression stern.  “Didn’t want you catchin’ any grief, yeah?”  
  
“Oh, Will, that’s . . .” She smiled up at him when he reached out to cup her cheek.  
  
“Would do anything to see you smile like this all the time, kitten.”  He leaned in, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead.  “Love your smile.”  
  
Xander nervously giggled, stage whispering to Wesley, “Your uncle likes my mom.”  
  
Sneaking a quick glance at the adults and spying Buffy kissing Spike’s cheek; Wesley pushed up his glasses, then shoulder bumped the other boy.  “Nah huh.  Your mum likes m’uncle.”    
  
The two boys went back and forth for a few moments, collapsing in helpless laughter when Jordan broke in with the age-old ‘kissing’ rhyme.  
  
With half an ear toward the boys, Buffy suddenly felt her own giggles surfacing. “Can’t stop smiling.”  
  
“Neither can I, baby, neither can I.”  Spike leaned forward again, this time capturing her mouth in a quick kiss.  He pulled back, stared into her eyes for a moment, then leaned in once more, his own eyes swirling with intensity as he murmured softly,  “God, I love you.”  
  
Buffy froze, staring at him with wide, stunned eyes.


	6. Six

**_Six_**  
  
His words hung in the air between them, leaving Buffy frozen with shock and Spike not much better off.  He was first to react, swearing heavily.  “ _Fuck_.  Bloody hell, kitten.  I’m . . . I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”  
  
Buffy’s mouth was dry, and she had stopped breathing completely.  She tried to speak, her voice high and thready.  “ _Me_?”  She cleared her throat and tried again, as her heart thudded with a crazy rhythm.  “You love me?”  
  
“Yeah.”  He ran a hand through his unruly curls, his eyes averted from hers, focusing on the ground and the scuffed toes of his Doc Martens.  “Yeah, I do.  Jus’ didn’t mean to scare you like that.”  
  
“I’m not scared.”  That was the one thing she knew for sure.  She wasn’t.  What she had been scared of was being alone in her emotions.  He’d just quashed any worry she might have been feeling, and she needed to tell him that very quickly.  “Will?  Would you look at me, please?”  
  
Their voices had dropped so that even the boys in front of them couldn’t overhear their words, and he looked up quickly to find a small smile playing about her lips.  “There’s something I need to tell you.”  
  
His heart constricted and he couldn’t hide the fear at all.  _This is the part, mate, where she breaks your heart an’ lets you down not so easily._   He braced himself for the harsh words, only to have the wind knocked out of him when her smiled brightened, nearly blinding him.  “I love you too, you know.”  
  
Spike stared at her, not quite believing his ears.  “You do?”  
  
“Ahuh.”    
  
He laughed, the noise loud and raucous and swooped  over to lift her high in his arms, twirling them both around.  Spike was laughing, mostly in relief, and he didn’t care about anything else in that moment.  His heart was pounding so hard he could barely breathe and his head was swimming, but he didn’t care.    
  
Buffy loved him.  
  
That was enough to make up for all the stares they were getting, all the questions that were about to explode.  It was enough.  More than enough.  
  
It was everything.  
  
He kept repeating it, over and over between big, smacking kisses, his voice almost crowing.  “I love you.  Love you, kitten.”  
  
Buffy was just as hysterical, her laughter interspersed with happy tears, as much from watching him and feeling his reaction as her own.    
  
“Mr. Giles?”  The tone of voice clued him in that this wasn’t the first time his name had been called, and Spike picked his head up, leaving Buffy’s lips reluctantly.    
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Um, I don’t really mean to interrupt you, but could I speak to both of you in private?”  
  
Tilting his head and glancing down at the dazed woman in his arms, Spike’s eyes darkened.  “What for?”  
  
Scoutmaster Finn had the grace to look embarrassed.  “Ah, well, I’d rather not do this in front of an audience.”  He motioned away from the camp, toward the road.  “If you don’t mind?”  
  
“Yeah, sure.  No worries.”  Spike’s hand drifted down to clasp Buffy’s and they shared a look.  He had a feeling he knew what this little discussion was going to be about, and he wasn’t going to allow this wanker to lecture either of them.  Nothing wrong had been done, they weren’t cheating on spouses, and the children, for the most part, were none the wiser.  
  
Buffy flexed her fingers around his and he glanced down in time to see worry enter her eyes.  Tugging on her hand, Spike brought it up to his mouth, laying a kiss on the back.  Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he said, “Jus’ remember what I said, kitten.”  
  
Her smile took his breath away and she blushed beautifully.  “How could I forget?”  
  
Their combined happiness lasted until Finn turned on his heel and leveled at stare that would have done a drill sergeant proud.  “I’ve had a few complaints about. . .”  He faltered under Spike’s growing anger.  “Well, they weren’t really complaints; they were more like a couple of comments.”  
  
He hesitated, shifting nervously, then blurted out, “One of the parents overheard you in the middle of the night. And she thought it wasn’t. . .”   His voice drifted off, as he noted with some trepidation the muscles of Spike’s jaw ticking.  Finn held up his hands, trying to placate the obviously irate man.  “I have a responsibility to mention it.”  
  
“Do you?  Or are you just lookin’ to give us a hard time ‘coz we don’t fit right with the rest of you lot?”  He let go of Buffy’s hand, his fists balling at his sides.  “Don’t rightly care what bug crawled up your arse, but give it a rest.  There’s none of the children knew what we were gettin’ up to, so no harm’s done.”  
  
“It doesn’t look right.”  A dark blush bloomed on Finn’s face and Spike knew the man was a prude.  _Probably saluted his wife before he got into bed beside her every night._  
  
“What?  Two people in love doesn’t look right?”  Spike took a menacing step forward, and the bigger man flinched again.  “Tell me somethin’, mate, did you sleep with your wife last night?”  
  
Finn spluttered, shaking his head.  “That’s not the same and you know that.”  
  
Spike poked his chest with two fingers.  “How is it not the same?  You love your wife, yeah?  Well, I love Buffy, an’ it doesn’t get any simpler than that.”  He stepped closer, forcing the other man back.  “I’ve dealt with bigger fish than you more than half my life, mate.”   He snarled the last word, his lips sneering as he peered up at the bigger man, “An’ I’ve never fuckin’ backed away from somethin’ I wanted.”  
  
Buffy’s hand on his arm brought Spike’s temper down a few notches and he eased off, stepping away from Finn.  “Don’ you dare take this out on the boys or Buffy.  There’s nothin’ wrong with what we were doin’, jus’ your twisted, tight assed mind that makes it so.”  
  
Spike turned to Buffy, folding his hand over hers and dropped a kiss on her forehead.  “C’mon, kitten, let’s get the boys ready to go.”  
  
He resolutely turned his back on the indignant Finn, tugging Buffy along behind him.  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
An hour later and everything was packed up, the boys in Buffy’s car, while Spike’s held all the gear.  Buffy and Spike were standing together beside her car, deciding on where to stop for breakfast.  After a few moments of playful wrangling, they compromised on The Pancake House.  Spike kissed her quickly and opened her car door.    
  
The boys were engrossed in their Game Boys, neither one of them paying the least bit of attention to what had gone on just beyond their noses, and Spike swooped in for another kiss.  They ended up making out like a pair of teenagers against the car door, and didn’t stop until they heard Wesley remark, “Xander, have you ever kissed a girl?”  
  
“ _Ew_.  No.”    
  
Neither boy had even bothered to look away from their games.  Spike shared a look with Buffy, both of them sporting goofy grins, which gave way to laughter with Xander’s next remark.  
  
“Girls aren’t any fun unless they play with Legos.”  
  
Buffy ducked her head into the open window.  “Are you guys ready to get out of here?”  
  
Both of them said ‘yes’ without lifting their heads up from the Game Boys, and she shook her head, laughter still sparkling in her eyes.  “You hungry?”  
  
“Yeah.”    
  
“Well, that was really enthusiastic.  Could you tear yourselves away from the games for a minute?”  When they both glanced up, she said, “We’re going for breakfast, that okay with you two?”  
  
Wesley nodded his head, “Yes, Mrs. Summers.”  
  
“Can we go now, Mom?”  Xander whined a bit, and she raised an eyebrow, not saying a word.  She didn’t really have to.  “Sorry.  Can we go?”  
  
Buffy yelped when Spike slapped her butt, straightening up quickly when his hand soothed the area.  She playfully pushed him away, wagging a finger at him.  “Now, now, Mr. Giles.  You know we can’t have any of that in front of the children.”  
  
Spike growled at her, grabbing her up in another hug.  “Keep it up, little girl, and the kiddies’ll really get an eyeful.”  
  
“Promises, promises.” She returned the kiss, then quickly moved away.  “If we don’t go now, we’ll be here all day just talking about it.”  
  
“Right then.  Meet you there.”  He opened the car door for her, ushering her inside.  Leaning down into the open window, he brushed a quick kiss on her forehead.  “Love you.”  
  
Her answering smile nearly blinded him and she blew him a kiss as she put the car into gear and pulled away.  Spike watched them drive off, laughing when she stuck her head out the window and yelled, “Love you too!”  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
The boys were engrossed in their games, and Buffy figured it was safe enough for her to head to the bathroom before their food arrived.  Spike had been distracted, humming and writing something down on a napkin from the moment they sat down.  He looked up quickly when she excused herself, smiling when she motioned to the bathroom but staying silent.  
   
She was gone about ten seconds when Spike looked at the boys.  “Listen up, you two.  Can you stay put for a mo?”  
  
“Sure, Uncle Will.”  Wesley looked up at him, pushing his glasses up on his nose.  “You going to get your guitar?”  
  
“Yeah.  Don’t you move from this spot.”  Spike surged to his feet, looking down at the two.  “Promise me.”  
  
“I promise.”    
  
When Xander didn’t answer, Spike thumped him gently on the head.  He yowled, rubbing his head.  “Your promise, too.”  
  
“Okay.  I promise.”  He said it so grudgingly that Spike knew he wasn’t going to move.  
  
He was out to the car and back before Buffy returned, his guitar and notebook in hand.  Fame sometimes had its privileges, and he was very happy to play that card.  He’d gotten them to open up one of the small private dining areas, one they only opened on holidays, so even though the manager didn’t recognize him, two of the waiters had and they had their privacy.  
  
Shaking his head at the picture of the two boys so engrossed in their games they didn’t notice he’d returned, Spike took his guitar out of the case and focused on his own distraction.  
  
The words came easily, almost writing themselves, though the melody was giving him a bit of a problem.  He’d have to run it past his band mates, see what Gunn and Lindsey thought of it.  Spike was halfway through the second verse when he finally noticed Buffy was back.  Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to see her sitting quietly, elbows propped up on the table, her chin resting in her palms, watching him.  A soft, dreamy smile was playing about her lips and her eyes were sparkling.  She blushed beautifully when he caught her staring and she looked down at the scribblings on the paper.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Jus’ somethin’ that popped into my head.”    
  
She reached for it then pulled her hand back.  “Would you let me see it?”  
  
“‘S not finished yet.”  He looked down at what he’d hastily scribbled there, changed one thing, then pushed the battered notebook toward her.  It used to bother him, sharing his lyrics before they were done, but he was long past worrying about that.  Besides, this song, like the last one, was all about her.  She might as well see it first.  
  
He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.  
  
At first Buffy didn’t really see the lyrics, she was overwhelmed by how he’d just handed them over without even flinching.  Then she read the words written in his flowing script and gasped.    
  
 _It's not that she scares me as much as the fear of giving so much and needing so little  
of loving so gently, my heart never meant me to fall.    
  
Inside her eyes.  
  
Now I could be giving, too much away by the way that I'm moving, everything I say. Now don't say you won't try to tell me you don't feel the same, I picture your eyes, I whisper your name.  
  
Inside I'm screaming, outside I'm sane, as soon as you're leaving, I need you again, I'm left with my dreaming, it's just not the same.  As inside her eyes that's where I want to be.  
  
Inside her eyes, that's where I want to be.  
_  
After she’d read through the lyrics a second time, Buffy lifted her eyes and stared at him.  “When did you. . .  Just now?”  
  
“Yeah, well, the words have been in m’head for a bit, an’ I just now put ‘em on paper.”  He watched her, staring closely at her face, noting that despite the fatigue he could see, she was luminous.  _She glows in the light. . . and she’s all I ever wanted._  
  
More lyrics flooded his brain, but before he could grab his notebook back from her, one of the star-struck waiters was back with their order.    
  
“Will, you’re humming.”  He didn’t realize it until Buffy pointed it out to him.    
  
“Am I?”  He had just swallowed a mouthful of home fries and bacon and shook his head.  “Working somethin’ out in my head again.”  
  
“Is it that song?”  She pushed around her pancakes, not daring to look up at him.    
  
He’d shoveled in another mouthful while she was talking and he all he did was shake his head, until he realized she wasn’t looking at him.  “No.  ‘Nother one.”  
  
She gaped at him then, her mouth hanging open.  “Another song?”  
  
He chuckled.  “Yeah.”  
  
“So quickly?  Is that normal?”  She was staring at him, a forkful of chocolate chip pancakes halfway to her mouth.  “You write like this all the time?”  
  
He half snorted his answer, “Hardly.  Don’t always get inspired like this.  Sometimes it’s jus’ the words, sometimes the music.  When I’m really lucky, I get both together.”  
  
“So you’re getting lucky?”  She realized a half second after she finished speaking what she’d actually said and Buffy blushed once more, stealing a quick glance to make sure the boys hadn’t heard her.  
  
 _Oh, I’m not lettin’ that one go without. . ._ “If you think we can leave the boys long enough, there’s a bathroom ‘round the corner. . .” He laughed when she spluttered something unintelligible out, quickly reaching for her hand.  “No, kitten, ‘m jus’ teasin’ you.”  His thumb stroked over her hand, the touch reaching all the way through her.  “But I plan on taking you up on that later.”  
  
They stayed like that, their hands linked together until the waiter interrupted them again.  After ensuring that everything was fine and they didn’t really need anything else, he went off and Buffy started eating again.  
  
Spike, on the other hand, couldn’t get the melody out of his head, nor the new lyrics that were swirling there.  He grabbed the pen and notebook from her side of the table, and pushed his plate aside.  Quickly scribbling out some lyrics, he kept humming and drumming his other hand on the table.  The boys ignored him, but Buffy was fascinated by the whole process.  Before long he was partially satisfied with what he’d done and he picked up the guitar from the case and began softly strumming out the melody he’d been humming.  At first it was very disjointed, a chord here and there, then he’d stop and write, another set of chords, then more writing.  The process didn’t make any sense at all to her, but she was content to just watch him while he created.    
  
Not once did he look up at her, though she knew he was more than aware of her presence and occasional staring.  Instead he just plowed through, the urgent need to get it all down completely communicating itself easily.  Finally, after endless minutes listening to the disjointed, almost jarring notes, the notes flowed smoothly from the guitar and he hummed along with it.  
  
Buffy recognized this, and how he’d done it – _was it just yesterday?_ – with that wonderful song he was calling ‘Bright Blue Rose’, and she waited, knowing he’d start singing the lyrics very shortly.  
  
He didn’t disappoint her, though she wasn’t quite catching what he meant with the lyrics.    
  
 ** _Let me wake up in your arms  
Hear you say it's just alright  
Let me be not dead and gone  
So far away from life  
Close my eyes  
Hold me tight  
And bury me deep inside your heart  
  
All I ever wanted was you, my love  
You're all I ever wanted is you, my love  
You're all I ever wanted, just you  
  
Let me never see the sun  
And never see you smile  
Never be so dead and so gone  
Not far away from life  
Just close my eyes  
Hold me tight  
And bury me deep inside your heart  
  
All I ever wanted was you, my love  
You're all I ever wanted is you, my love  
You're all I ever wanted, you, oh my love  
You're all I ever wanted, you, my love  
  
That's the way it's always been  
My heart keeps beating only for you Baby  
Only for your loving  
  
All I ever wanted was you, my love  
You're all I ever wanted is you, my love  
You're all I ever wanted, you, my love  
You're all I ever wanted, you, my love  
_**  
His eyes were closed as he was singing, a slight smile curving his mouth.  Buffy wished he’d open his eyes, because she just knew she’d be able to see exactly what he was thinking in their depths.  The chorus haunted her as he kept singing it, repeating it over and over, until she looked up to see him watching her reaction.    
  
Buffy couldn’t speak, couldn’t force thoughts, much less words, to her tongue.  She got the lyrics now.  Oh boy, did she understand.  Instead of speaking, unwilling to break the spell that had enveloped them, Spike launched into the song again, his voice firmer, his eyes never leaving hers.  When he was done with that one, he segued into the other complete song he’d written this weekend, and Buffy didn’t bother hiding the tears swimming in her eyes.  No one had ever – ever written a song about her before.  And now, here was this man –  this Grammy award wining, multi-million selling artist –  sitting before her, with two songs inspired by her.  
  
She was in love.    
  
So she told him.  
  
His wide grin told her more than any words could have expressed.  Spike loosened his hold on the guitar, getting up to sit beside her.  His arm sloped over her shoulders and he dropped a kiss against her temple, breathing out against her skin, “I love you, kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the song used in this chapter, was written by Russell Crowe – yes that Russell Crowe – for his band Forty Odd Foot of Grunts (lovely name for a band isn’t it?). The name of the tune is “Inside Her Eyes”. And the second song (with some minor lyric changes) is from His Infernal Majesty (HIM) a Finnish band and that song is “Bury deep inside your heart” and it’s very haunting.


	7. Seven

_**Epilogue**_  
  
  
  
“Mom!”  Xander screamed down at her from the top of the stairs, not bothering to use the intercom that had been installed in the last couple of weeks.  “I can’t find any socks!”  
  
Buffy got slowly to her feet, shaking her head and grumbling about little boys who don’t look closely enough.  Before she got to the stairs, though, Xander yelled yet again.  “Never mind, Mom.  I found some.”  
  
Instead of continuing toward the stairs, Buffy did an abrupt turn and headed right back to the window seat.  She loved this one, since it looked out onto the backyard and the rough garden she’d painstakingly fashioned with the gardener.  All her friends said she was insane to spend so much time and money on a wild garden, but she’d had an ulterior motive.    
  
Xander came thumping down the stairs, heedless of the noise he was making, and  bounced into the den, an armful of socks leading the way. “See, I found them.”  
  
“I see that.  You don’t really need quite that many.  You’re only going for the weekend.”  Buffy tried not to laugh, managing only when she bit her lower lip.  “Lemme see what we can do.”    
  
Dumping the socks on the cushion next to her, Xander hauled himself up so that the socks were between them.  “Hey, Mom?  What time is Dad coming?”  
  
“Your father should be here in about an hour.” She looked up in time to see his expression falter a little bit.  “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing.”  He fumbled with some socks, not looking up at her.  
  
“Spill it, buster.”    
  
“I’m gonna miss him coming home, ain't I?”  He glanced out the window, craning his neck to see the driveway that curled around that side of the house.  “He’s not gonna be home before I leave.”  
  
“I don’t know, sweetie.  He promised to try and be home before then, but I don’t know if he will be.”   She leaned over awkwardly and kissed the top of his head.  “But you’ll only be gone for two days.  He’ll still be here when you get back, you know.”  
  
At that, a big grin crossed his face.  “I know.  I just miss him.”  
  
“Oh, sweetie, I know.  I do too.”  She ruffled his hair, saying, “You need a haircut.  Maybe when you get back from camping he’ll take you, how’s that sound?”  
  
That really didn’t placate him and Buffy hadn’t expected it too.  She tried again. “Well, you know he misses you, too.  And he did promise to try and be home.”  
  
“An’ you know me, don’t like breakin’ promises.”  The object of their discussion stood in the doorway, leaning against the polished white surface.  He looked rather out of place with black jeans, long leather duster, and scuffed Doc Martens, but he was a sight for both their eyes.    
  
“Spike!”  Xander launched himself off the window seat, careening toward him with arms outstretched.  “You’re home!”  
  
“Sure am, whelp.”  Spike leaned down to hug him close, then easily picked him up and slung him upside down over his shoulder.  “Sounds like you missed me.”  
  
“Nah.  Mom did, though.”    
  
Spike laughed, knowing the lie when he heard it.  He walked toward her, a smile on his lips and a leer in his eyes.  “Hullo, kitten. Did you miss me?”  
  
“Ah huh.  You know I did.”  She stood up on the window seat, arms outstretched.  “Just like you missed me.”  
  
 “Every damn day.  Twice as bad at night.”  He dropped Xander down, patting him absently on his shaggy head and shoving him toward the door.  “Go get your gear, Xander, I’m gonna say hello properly to your mum.”  He swooped closer, his arms going round her hips as he reached up to tug her down for his kiss.  “Hullo, there, luv.”  
  
“Hello, yourself.”  Buffy kissed him, melting into his embrace.  “How was the trip?”  
  
“You already know the boring details.  Last leg was brutal.  Plane got delayed comin’ outta D.C. because of storms.  Had to reroute an’ fly around the mess.”  He peppered her face with kisses.  “But we’re here, all safe an’ sound.”  
  
And this was the only downside to their relationship.  The traveling.  Though since that weekend, just a year ago, Spike and the band only went on mini-tours that lasted no longer than six weeks at a time.  It was still hard on the both of them, but it was worth it.  
  
Two weeks after that fateful weekend, Spike was spending nearly every night at her place, only going back to Drusilla’s during the day so he could oversee the nanny and leave Buffy to her practice.  They weren’t married yet, though only because neither of them felt the pressing need.   
  
Five weeks after that – not even two months into their relationship – he’d gone house-hunting without her.  Hadn’t even told her about it, until he’d found one he liked with space for her office, not too far from where Drusilla and her family were living.  She immediately fell in love with it and he’d made an offer on it the next day.  With five bedrooms, three bathrooms,  a swimming pool, and plenty of room to expand, the house was perfect for them.  Construction had started on her office space and a family room/den within days of their taking title and had been finished before school started again the following September.    
  
Now it was May again.   
  
Spike shrugged out of the duster, dropping it on the floor.  He shoved the socks to the floor and scooped Buffy up, then sat down on the window seat, bracing his legs on either side of her so that she was cradled between them.  Leaning his head back, he pulled her close, letting her head rest just under his chin.  “God, I missed you.”  
  
Buffy closed her eyes, inhaling his scent and locking this moment away.  These last six weeks had been very difficult without him.  She murmured something soft against his chest and he chuckled, the sound reaching into her depths and easing the knots of worry she’d been carrying around.  “I’m so glad you’re home.”  
  
“Me too, baby.”    
  
They stayed like that for a few minutes, knowing Xander was on his way back into the room and Angel would be arriving shortly for the camping trip.  Another good thing to come out of their relationship was Angel’s renewed interest in his son.  His custody visit in July had been a real eye-opener, to say the least.  All he’d heard for his two weeks with Xander had been, ‘Spike lets me do this’ and ‘Spike takes me to Disney’ and ‘Spike has this game’, to the point where Angel had called her, wanting to know who Spike was and why he had so much influence on his son.  The fight that ensued had been a doozy, though in the end, Xander had been the big winner.  Angel had stepped up –  jealous and afraid of losing his son to the rock star stepfather figure – and had begun to religiously spend time with Xander.    
  
Which was why he and Xander were going camping and not Spike.  Even Penn, Drusilla’s ex-husband, had gotten motivated.  Buffy didn’t know all the details of that confrontation, but she knew enough to understand that Spike’s attorneys had threatened Penn with jail time and excessive fines for failure to pay child support.  So he was going with Wesley.  
  
They had a whole weekend to themselves to celebrate Spike’s return home from touring.  
  
Spike’s hands were making soothing circles on her back and Buffy found herself drifting, awash in love and safety.  She had no idea how long she lay in that fugue state between waking and sleep, and she barely stirred when the doorbell rang, signaling Angel’s arrival.  Xander ran for the door, throwing it open and quietly greeting his father, since he knew both his mother and Spike were sort of asleep.  
  
“Spike?  Dad’s here.”  Xander stood by their side, his voice low so he didn’t disturb his mother.  
  
Angel was standing the doorway, peering in at the family.  He didn’t attempt to hide the distaste in his voice as he spied Spike with Buffy curled up in his arms.  “Hello.”  
  
“Angel.”  Spike’s voice rumbled against her ear and Buffy swam toward consciousness. “Lemme put Buffy down, an’ ‘ll help you with the boy’s gear.”  
  
“I’m awake.  Don’t wanna be, but I’m awake.”  Buffy pushed her hair back and straightened her sundress around her thighs.  “Hello, Angel.”  
  
Spike dropped a kiss on her forehead.  “Why don’t you go back to sleep, kitten.  You look all done in.”   
  
“I’m okay.  I just needed you to be home.”  She leaned into him, tightening her arms around him, hugging him hard.    
  
“Oh, baby, ‘m home now.”  Out of the corner of his eye, Spike caught the look on Angel’s face and he very nearly growled at the other man.  _What a fuckin’ git he is._   “Go on, sweetheart, we’ll get the boy sorted.  You stay put.”  
  
Buffy didn’t need to be told a third time.  She was tired, though she wasn’t about to admit why – at least not at this moment, anyway.  Spike grabbed a pillow and the throw blanket from the couch and handed them to her before following the other two from the room.  Buffy could hear them getting Xander’s equipment and backpack down the stairs and it was obvious that Angel was once more on his high-horse about something.  His tone of voice was nothing short of snide and condescending, which was funny, all things considered.  Despite his outward appearance, Spike was better educated than Angel, and his net worth was far more extensive.  Which, she supposed, was part of Angel’s problem.  
  
They were done quickly and before she had a chance to drift back to sleep, Xander was saying goodbye with a kiss and a hug.  Angel waved his goodbye from the doorway and then. . . they were alone.  House all to themselves for the entire weekend.  
  
Spike stared at her, basking in the window seat, drowsy from the late afternoon sunlight shining in through the window.  Even now, after a year together, she still took his breath away, captivating him with just the hint of a smile.  She rubbed her nose, wrinkling her face a bit as she did so, and his grin widened.  _Damn, I love her.  
_  
He dropped down to a crouch, struggling with the knots of his boots, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.  Her eyes were still closed, but he knew she was faking sleep, because her teasing little grin got wider and wider and she kept stretching, exposing more skin as she did.  Easing back to his feet, Spike slipped open the first two buttons of his jeans, letting them ride low on his hips.  He could feel the weight of her slitted eyes on his crotch, knew she was eyeing his burgeoning erection.  She rolled onto her back, throwing off the blanket completely, letting her dress ride up even higher.  
      
Buffy raised her leg, letting her knee rest against the window pane, giving up all pretense of teasing Spike with the slow torture of revealing what she wore beneath the sundress.  
  
Which was precisely nothing.  
  
Spike stopped dead in his tracks, a scant two feet away from her, his heart thudding rapidly and his erection straining against his jeans.  Buffy slid her hand down from her knee on the inside of her thigh, drawing his heated attention.  She stopped, just shy of teasing the outer folds of her pussy.  Spike licked his lips, his eyes riveted on the sight of his woman all spread out for him.    
  
“Take it off, kitten.”  More growled than spoken, his voice rumbled right through her and Buffy arched her hips, desperate to feel his touch.  “ _Now_.  Take it off.”  
  
Feeling a bit wicked, and loving the gleam in his eye and the roll of his words, Buffy slid her fingers through her pussy.  When he growled again, she sat up, languidly raising the hem of her dress up and over her shoulders.  
  
Twisting herself so she was facing him, Buffy teased him a bit by pulling one end of the blanket over, barely covering her exposed pussy.  Her nipples were hard and pointed, and she arched her back, running a hand over up her side and cupping her breast.  Her eyes drifted closed and she bit her bottom lip, knowing he was watching her every move.  She leaned back, shivering a little from the feel of the cool glass against her bare skin.  Goosebumps pebbled all over her body and she stretched again, sliding her hand beneath the blanket, fingering her clit.    
  
His growl startled her and she jumped a little, dislodging the blanket completely.  The sight of Buffy framed in the window, with sunlight streaming in behind her and not a stitch on had his control finally snapping.  Spike was on his knees, pulling her toward his mouth before she realized it.  Her legs were draped over his shoulders and he’d latched onto her clit, nipping at it with his teeth and tongue.  
  
“Oh, my God, _Will_!”  she shrieked out his name, her fingers scrabbling for something to hold onto.    
Her orgasm was quick, exploding through her like a rocket.  All her senses were firing, flaring with bright lights and tremors.  The words spewing from her mouth unraveled into incoherent garbled murmurs, and he grinned, using his tongue and fingers to keep her cresting.  
  
“That’s it, baby, come for me, come hard.”  He pulled back, breathing heavily and blowing hot air over her aroused clit.  “God, I fuckin’ missed you so much.”  
  
“Will. . . Will. . .”   Buffy couldn’t do anything but mewl out his name.  Her heels banged against his shoulders, trying to pull him closer.  “Need you.”  
  
“Yeah.  Need you too, kitten.”  Spike punctuated his need by latching onto her clit again, lapping up her spendings then sliding his tongue deep into her pussy.  His hands pushed her hips wider, splaying her out on the window seat as he worried the tiny button between his teeth, pulling back away from her a little.  Her shriek echoed in the small alcove and he chuckled, watching her ride out her first orgasm.  “You are so fuckin’ beautiful, baby.   Could watch you like this all day.”  
  
Buffy collapsed, her thighs quivering and her body all flushed and rosy from her orgasm.   Her hands slid down her sides, reaching for him.  “Will, please, I _need_ you.”  
  
Rising up from his knees, Spike stepped out of his jeans, doffing his shirt in the process.  Standing before her, his cock erect and jutting out from his groin, Spike lifted her hips up.  He teased her opening, using just the head of his cock and making torturously slow and shallow thrusts into her depths.  Mesmerized by the slow thrusting and the sight of her taking him in, Spike groaned deeply in his chest.  “Holy fuck, kitten. . . jus’ watchin’ you like this. . .  watchin’ us.”  
  
“More, Will, please. . . _please_.”  It wasn’t enough, after weeks apart, his teasing her was not nearly enough.  She needed him, needed to feel him holding her, his cock hard and thick inside her, affirming their connection.  “ _Please_!”  
  
She was hot and tight and smooth, slicker than he’d ever felt before.  The heat of her nearly had his head exploding when he finally eased into her depths.  He paused, holding himself still, trying to control the need to thrust wildly, pounding into her with abandon.  Spike wanted this to last, wanted to savor every moment of this homecoming, but she was too hot, too needy and it had been so fucking long since he’d been inside her.  All rational thought fled his brain, his body’s needs consuming him.  His hips churned, swirling on every stroke, bumping into the bundle of nerves hidden deep inside her.    
  
Mumbled, incoherent words tumbled from his lips, interspersed with panting, heaving breaths.  He felt her walls tighten, felt the beginnings of another orgasm rolling through her and he gave in, his thrusts erratic, his heart thundering in his ears.  Her name became his prayer and she keened out his in return.  Her vaginal walls tightened painfully around his cock and she broke, her orgasm triggering his.  
   
Spent and trembling, Spike crawled up onto the window seat, curling onto his side.  Wrapping an arm around Buffy, he pulled her lax body close, laying soft kisses on her shoulder and face.  A soft smile curved over her lips and she whispered, “Welcome home, William.”  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
Hours later, they hadn’t moved far at all, making it only to the oversized couch.  The throw blanket Buffy had teased him with covered their torsos, leaving feet and shoulders bare.  Spike was idly running his hands through Buffy’s hair, content to just listen to the sound of her sleeping softly on his chest.  She’d been falling asleep for the last hour or so, but he kept waking her, sliding into her depths with ease, just to stay connected.  He loved lying this way, with her arms and legs draped over and around him, their groins flush.    
  
His stomach rumbled, though he ignored it in favor of staying put.  He’d rather starve in this spot than move.  It had been the worst trip so far, the nights they didn’t play driving home how much he missed her, the nights they did highlighting how much of his music was now played and written specifically for her.  The good news was that the CD they’d released at Christmas was now certified platinum, and the acoustic one – with Bright Blue Rose and three other songs he’d written specifically about her –  had just gone gold. The buzz about that one was enormous, critics and fans alike responding positively.    
  
But none of that really mattered.  At least not at this moment.    
  
What mattered was the woman in his arms.    
  
Buffy shifted, her muscles loosening further and a soft snore wafted from her mouth.  He chuckled, knowing she would deny it if he teased her about it, nor would she believe she was drooling on his bare chest.  His stomach grumbled again, this time loud enough to disturb the sleeping beauty on his chest.  She stirred, leaning up on wobbly arms, realizing as she shifted how intimately they were joined.   
  
“Mmmmm.”  Her hips wriggled, and he clamped a steadying hand around the curve of her hip.  
  
“Easy there, princess.”  His eyes roamed her face, noting the sleepy, half-opened eyes, the flush of her cheeks and the gorgeous half smile wreathing her lips.  “You are so fuckin’ gorgeous.”  
  
Cupping her breast in his free hand, he tugged gently on her nipple.  Buffy’s gasp heralded the clenching of her inner muscles, and his hips surged upward, responding to her unspoken need. “Christ, woman. . .”   
  
Buffy sat up, writhing around his cock, resting her hands on his chest.  His hips bucked and rolled under her, surging up into her warm depths.  “C’mon baby, take me in. . . jus’ like . . _yeah_.”  
  
Her eyes opened, boring into his and she bit her lower lip, sliding her hand down to finger her clit.  Spike laced his fingers with hers, pressing on the distended button as she rotated her hips.  “Tha’s it. . . drown me, squeeze me. . .”  
                  
Internal muscles clenched around his cock, and Spike raised up, his arms wrapping around her, flipping her over.  His hips surged wildly, thrusting into her, mouth descending on hers.  Buffy’s hands clamped around his ass, fingernails digging into his churning muscles, legs locked around his, holding him close.  “Come again, for me baby, jus’ for me. . . _Buffy_. . .”  
  
“Will. . . now, _Will_. . .”  Her words ended in a garbled mess, the depths of her orgasm rendering her without words.  
  
“Love you. . . love you.”    
  
Spike pulled out, then plunged deep inside her, letting the slippery slide of her ease him  deeper than he’d ever been.  Rippling muscles tightened around his cock, every nerve in his body alight.  His body froze, heart skipping out a mad beat and he thrust once more, coming hard, flooding into her.    
Sweat stood out on every inch of his body, his heart thundering out to reach hers.    
  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
  
  
Buffy woke before he did, reveling in the knowledge that he was home, spooned up behind her, sleeping deeply.  She’d missed him so much these past six weeks, though she’d made herself a promise when he left that she wasn’t going to beg him to come home.  And she hadn’t.  Despite some very good reasons why she needed him home, she hadn’t begged, asked, pleaded, or even once broached the subject.  
  
Her fingers traced the fine bones of the hand he’d wrapped around her middle, rubbing up over his callouses, crossing the thin scars and thanking every powerful being in the universe for having him there beside her.  His leg was firmly wedged between hers, her back flush against his chest, her head tucked just beneath his chin.  They were still on the couch, the blanket once more covering them.  Their feet tangled together, her toes brushing over his bigger feet, the hair on his legs prickling her skin.   
  
His hand responded to her feather soft touches, brushing gently over her skin, and she knew he was awake.  “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”  
  
He chuckled, blowing stray bits of her hair out of his face.  “Yeah, you did, but I’ll forgive you this once.”  
  
“Only this once?”  She wriggled her hips, brushing her ass over his semi-erect cock.  “Think maybe I could convince you to forgive me again?”  
  
“Mmmm, if you wake me up like this, I’d consider forgiveness.”  He cupped her breast, thumb and forefinger rolling the sleep-soft nipple to a hard point.  
  
Her slight flinch stilled his hand, and Spike leaned up on his elbow.  “Kitten, you okay?”  
  
Buffy huffed out a soft breath, knowing it was time, yet so very unsure of the moment.  “I’m fine.”  
  
By the tone of her voice, he knew something was up, and he thought about letting it go, but some instinct, some inner voice told him to push the issue. “Sweetheart. . .”  
  
Closing her eyes, Buffy slid her fingers up to join his where they curved around her breast.  “Will.”     
She went silent, unable to gather the courage to say the words.   Not because she was afraid of his reaction, but because she wanted to savor this moment, hold it in her heart forever, let it be one of those memories she’d carry with her until she was old and gray. . .   
  
He waited, his body so attuned to hers that he could feel her heart thudding in her chest, feel the soft skin at the small of her back, the rush of her breath over his hand.    
  
Her voice was soft and steady, her head angled so that she could see his face from the corner of her eye.  “I’m pregnant.”  
                      
A slow, wide grin bloomed across his features, so wide his eyes crinkled and the twinkle in their depths took away her breath.  “Are you now?”  
  
“Ah huh.”  
  
“Issat why you kept callin’ me every night with somethin’ to say an’ not wantin’ to say it?” He laughed at her pouty lip, pushing her down so that she was almost lying beneath him.  “Don’t gimme that lip, baby, you know what happens to me when you do that.”  
  
Just because he asked her, she didn’t change her expression.  “How did you know that?”  
  
“Sweetheart, I love you more than life itself, don’t you think I’d notice when you were keeping somethin’ a secret?”  Spike leaned down, nuzzling her cheek.  
  
The pout worsened.  “You weren’t supposed to guess. I wanted to surprise you.”  
  
“Buffy, luv, look at me.”  He coaxed her face closer, brushing a warm finger over her full lips.  “I didn’t know.  Jus’ knew you were wantin’ to tell me something important, that’s all.”  
  
He leaned in to kiss her, nipping on her lower lip.  “An’ for the record, woman, I’m so damn happy. . .  do you have any idea how much I love you?”  
  
She threaded her fingers through his unruly curls, tugging him back toward her mouth.  Just before she kissed him, she whispered.  “Almost as much as I love you.  Are you really happy?”  
  
He didn’t move to kiss her, holding back to answer her question.  “Sweetheart, from the first moment I saw you, I knew . . .  You’re the one, luv.  Center of my world.  An’ yeah, I’m bloody happy.  Happier than I’ve ever been.”  His mouth covered hers and he kissed her deeply.  
  
When they broke for air, he tenderly brushed stray hair off her face.  “I’ve wanted this, you. . . a home, family, from the beginning.”  His eyes stared into hers, blue sparkling with gold and silver lights.  “Wanted it so badly, pet.”  
  
  
*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*{*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*}*  
  
      
Six months and four days later, William James Giles made his much anticipated debut amidst Christmas preparations and Grammy award nominations.    
  
His big brother was very happy he wasn’t a girl.  
  
His father, on the other hand, was hoping his mother wouldn’t be too upset when he suggested maybe they could have that sister next time. . .   
  
                                



End file.
